Entry
by Dont Tread On Me
Summary: Smith is now an exile, a rouge program in the matrix. And the Merovingian is very intrested in his potential. He sends the Twins after Smith as a 'draftiee' for a renegade army. (Chapter 8 up! Sorry for the VERY long delay)
1. 01

Entry  
  
A Smith-Fic, centering how I think Smith first 'woke up' and what happened to him while this was going on. Hopefully, you will like it.  
  
01  
  
His head throbbed like it was being hit by a jackhammer, and he could hear a ring in his ears.  
  
But he knew that no jackhammer had done this to him. He coughed up another glob of vomit, finding himself in an alley in some back wash district of town. He didn't even know whether or not he could see, until he opened his blue, shade-less eyes. He could hardly stand up, but knew he had to, even if he wanted to stay on the ground of the alley for all of time. There was a sharp pain resonating through his body, and he could only manage to get on his knees before falling over to the side, onto some trash. He coughed again, the stuff dribbling down his cheek in an odd parody of what he was. He didn't eat, and yet, he was regurgitating something. He didn't even know he could. He couldn't bring his arm up to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. He could hardly move at all now. Smith could only look at the sky in hopeless desire to get on his feet and move. He made a groan and flipped over again, putting his hands on the ground and doing a rough push-up to get on his feet. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was an intense pain all over his body, and then a system-wide crash alert. That alert should have never happened to him, an Agent. The most feared and cursed enemy of the resistance. And of course, he could remember that name, that single entity that had seared itself into his mind and body. That scared his reputation, and ultimately did the impossible task of destroying the gatekeeper.  
  
Mr. Anderson would be in his mind and...soul forever, in more than one way. He stumbled back onto a wall, and gripped the side of a garbage disposal unit to stay up. The 'dumpster' as the humans called it, smelled of rot. It was that same smell that had permeated his sense of smell for decades. "What is happening to me?" he managed to choke out, before stumbling to the other side of the alley, slamming his already cramped and pounding shoulder into a hard brick and concrete wall. He made a scream, not so much of pain, but of frustration. He would have to call this in later...  
  
Then came a second revelation.  
  
His 'link', the earpiece, was gone.  
  
Smith's eyes were wide in horror. He knew it wasn't possible, he knew that it couldn't be true! Yet the earpiece was gone. It was attached to him, and even if he threw it into the harbor, when he 'jacked in' to another body it would return. But it was gone. That meant only one thing...  
  
He was an exile, and the word stung his body and mind like nothing before. Smith was realizing what was going on. He was regurgitating because his line code was rejecting the programming that had been in him all his life. He knew one other thing as well.  
  
He stank.  
  
He smelled like he was in a nursing home, and not one of the nurses. He held his face as he held back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He was rejected by the very thing that gave him sentience. The thing that gave him life. The thing he swore to uphold and protect without a second thought. His creator, his god, had rejected him and left him in a back alley in some rundown district. He then slid along the wall, trying to get out of the alley as to get his bearings. He sighed a bit, and raised his hand to his eyes to cover them from the sun that seemed to burn one hundred times brighter. Very suddenly however, he felt a very pronounced and sharp pain in his back.  
  
"You narc, get up so I can beat your a*s for steppin' up on me!" said a male voice. Sounded African American and very upset. In any other situation, Smith would have simply turned around and shot this man full of .50AE rounds.  
  
Then came the third revelation.  
  
His Desert Eagle .50 Action Express was gone.  
  
"c'mon you b***h!" said the man, as the pain shot up his back again. Smith was mad enough to tangle with a sentinel, but he could only cough in reply to the man's demands. Smith growled a bit and slowly, despite the man hitting him in the back again, stood up and turned around.  
  
"Don't...hit.... me..." Smith said groggily, looking to the man, who looked no older than 15, and wearing clothing from the popular "South Pole" brand. The man also held a titanium baseball bat.  
  
"Or what mutha?! You gonna get all kung fu on me?! You pansy a** b***h!" he said, swinging the bat back down on him again.  
  
This time however, Smith caught it.  
  
"I told you...not to hit me..." He said in a very blind anger, as he yanked the bat away from the terrified man. Smith swung to the right and connected to the teen's jaw. Smith sent the man spiraling down onto the concrete. With revitalized energy, Smith then kicked the kid in the stomach with a very hard and dirty shoe. The teen could only cough up some blood. He looked pathetic, and Smith smiled. He would at least enjoy that look again. Smith then raised the bat high above his head and sent it down again with enough force to resonate through the kid's body and crack the concrete. And Smith then hit the kid again, and again, and again. He hit him till his head was, literally, bloody pulp. His stomach and chest had actually caved in. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a gaggle of terrified on-lookers around him, who screamed at Smith. Smith enjoyed this very moment for the sheer terror and mayhem he was causing, and smiled, silently chuckling.  
  
That was until he noticed the two uniformed police officers moving through the crowd with their weapons drawn. As the crowd started to dissipate from panic, the policemen held their weapons at Smith. The first cop, one with sideburns and a short moustache, was the first to order him.  
  
"Freeze, drop the bat now!" He said, aiming a Glock 17, 9MM chambered, at Smith. Smith was sick of this. He just wanted to find a place to crawl into and be deleted. Something in him told him to continue on however, be it some will to live or just his self-preservation programming. He didn't drop the bat, and instead, threw it at the policeman's head.  
  
It connected, and flew at roughly the same speed as a MVP pitcher's fastball. There was a loud snap of bone as the man fell silently to the ground. His partner looked at Smith with anger as he raised his own Glock at Smith.  
  
Smith only knew one thing. That he had better have kept his agility.  
  
The programming of the gun told him everything, and with his computerized mind, he was able to guess the trajectory and velocity of each of the 9MM rounds in the clip. The policeman went prone and fired.  
  
He hit nothing but thin air.  
  
Smith had dogged all of the bullets in the clip of the weapon. The officer was getting ready to re-load. Smith decided that if there was ever a time to do something, now was it. He grabbed the officer's weapon and yanked it from his hands. As the clip fell, Smith grabbed it quicker than the man could blink, and slammed it into the chamber, pulling back the slide and setting the bullet in the chamber. It wasn't 'his' gun, but necessity was the mother of desperation. His head pounded, and it was hard to concentrate, and he was starting to feel the effects of loosing his link to the mainframe. He was angry now, not in the sense of anger for shooting at him, but anger in the sheer fact that someone so stupid could possibly exist. He was also starting to get a rush from this, something he never felt before, but immensely enjoyed. He just as quickly grabbed the fallen officers gun, holding both Glocks in an Akimbo combo. Smith then fired both weapons until the clips were exhausted. He tossed the two glocks away as the officer fell, full of holes.  
  
Smith then turned his attention to the patrol car. Seeing a Remington shotgun in-between the driver and passenger's seats. Although it was bolted down and locked, Smith easily ripped the weapon away from its carriage. He checked it. Full chamber, 7 shots of 12 gauge buckshot. Smith was truly desperate if he was stealing weapons from uniformed police officers. He had to move quickly though, as he was now a fugitive of the law of the mainframe. He limped off from the scene as fast as he could, still reeling in pain from the whole incident with Anderson. He was quite a distraction though, carrying around a fully loaded shotgun around on the streets. He suddenly realized the effectiveness of a trench coat, since someone could easily hide even a rifle. Smith had to find somewhere to hide. As of now, he was going to have to learn how to be pursued, as it was he who would now be hunted.  
  
It was, according to his calculations of computer time and what he last knew, a rough estimate at 8:18 PM. He had managed to hide the shotgun long enough for him to tuck it under the bed of the hotel room he had rented. The place stank, and it was too.colorful. It was a shade of fading green, and some rather incorrectly proportioned pictures of women on the wall. He was on the bed, resting as best he could. Even for a program, rest was the best cure for most ailments. A bottle of aspirin was on the table. Although one would think that he wouldn't need these two things, they could relax a program. The aspirin after all was just a program made to relive the simulated pain the humans felt. Smith could feel this pain too, and it resonated through him like a wave. He rubbed his temples in pain. He groaned a bit and stood up, walking to a bathroom and filling a glass with water. He felt good, even as the water he knew was fake went down his gullet. He sighed as that feeling of relaxation went away with the pain in the head he had felt.  
  
Suddenly, he felt the urge to throw up again. He tossed his cookies, something he only had a gasp on understanding, and that made him feel a little bit better, not much though. He needed to do a few things, but he needed to get better first. He looked into the mirror, and for the first time in a very, very long time, got to see himself. He wondered however, how he was being materialized here without a body to take. He was confused, and needed to sit down.  
  
"What now.Smith? What do you do now?" he said to his reflection whilst sitting on a toilet adjacent to the mirror. It was an expression of vanity, but not the highest of his sins that he would need to confess to. But what the hell, he didn't need to do anything. He was already in bad leagues with god, if that is what you wanted to call it. He stood up, only wearing his pants and a Wife-Beater tank top, no socks, no shoes. He was overheating a bit, but couldn't have an air conditioner. The place was too cheap to have a room he could afford with one. He didn't carry money around since he never thought that he would need it. Boy, did that come back to bite him in the rear. He made a slight groan, walking back to the bed and laying down.  
  
No sooner had he lain down, when the door knocked. Smith sighed and went to the door. "Identify yourself," he said, holding the shotgun he took from the officers. He looked through the peephole and saw.  
  
Two identical looking programs, he could tell the difference easily. He clenched the shotgun tighter, his finger getting itchy.  
  
"I said, identify yourselves.." He said again.  
  
"Are you Smith?" Said one of them.  
  
"What does it matter to you who I am?"  
  
"That is for us to know."  
  
".And you to comply to."  
  
Smith needed to hear no more. He pointed the barrel to the door and pulled the trigger.  
  
When he calked the gun, two ghost-like forms went 'through' the door. They then became solid, revealing themselves to be the Twins. Smith raised the weapon and fired again, but the shots phased through as they changed to ghosts again. Smith tossed the gun away and ran at the two, as they got out identical pearl-handled razor blades, the old shaving kind. Smith found this highly ineffective for killing a person. He kicked one into the wall with a flying kick. The second twin then grabbed Smith around the neck.  
  
"We told you to come with us."  
  
"We didn't ask you to." they said, as one seemingly got up relatively unharmed and two still held onto Smith. Two didn't expect the elbow to his stomach. He stumbled back, and Smith then spun around and kicked him in the jaw, sending the Twin to the ground. His head pounded, and he was starting to lose his concentration. The Twins then both tackled Smith, pinning him down.  
  
"We promise, this will only hurt."  
  
".For a limited amount of time." They said, forcefully shoving a pill into Smith's mouth. He could feel his systems shutting down, and he shook a bit. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, as one of the Twin's cold, corpse- like hands clasped down on his mouth to keep him from screaming. Smith's world went black, as he fell into unconsciousness.  
  
End of chapter one 


	2. 02

Entry  
  
*wow, amazing reviews o.o I am glad so many people like this story ^^. I will then continue it o-o*  
  
02  
  
Smith's vision was blurred.  
  
He made a slight groan. A musty smell rose to his nostrils. There was the smell of old wood, and a slight tint of salt. He slowly opened his eyes.  
  
And it was still dark.  
  
He tried to move his arm up, but it was held down. He felt incredibly weak, like he was drugged. And he probably was. He suddenly felt a row of thin, soft; objects stroke his chest and stomach. He felt suddenly warm. Not in a comforting way however.  
  
"Hmm.he must be awake..." said a female voice, sounding like it was from someone of Italian origin. Smith then heard another voice.  
  
"Hmmm.so it would seem." said a voice belonging to a French male.  
  
"Wherph..whuhh." said Smith. He sounded like he had a mouth formed of some kind of mush. He still couldn't see.  
  
"Take the blind fold off.." Said the Frenchman, as Smith's eyes were assaulted with light. Smith's vision was blurry, and he could only see globs of color that stood out from the brown-white of the room. A black blob moved over to him. A white blob standing opposite of the black one.  
  
"Cain, Abel, take him away." Said the Frenchman, as two blobs, another black one and one red, started to move for him. Smith tried with all his worldly might to get up and possibly fight back, but he was as willing as a dead, limp, wet cat. He was easily picked up and put over the shoulder of the red blob. His vision clouded again, and went black.  
  
It seemed to be forever since he last opened his eyes. But he knew the reality. His vision had returned, and he slowly felt the feeling in his legs return. He was in a cot; witch was as stiff as a board. He slowly moved his head to the side, and spied a very familiar face.  
  
It was the Merovingian. The leader of a kind of revolutionary movement. His motives, however, were not as noble as the humans. He was in a nice looking chair, on the other side of the bars. It looked like a replication of a Louis XIIII. Smith then jumped up and vaulted to the bars. He looked as crazed as a wild animal, but the Mero didn't seem to care. The Mev smiled at Smith, the perfect picture of calm.  
  
"Please, anger will get you nowhere Smith. Sit down." Said the Mero in a very relaxed and calm, yet demanding, tone. Smith sat down on the cot, holding his face in his hands.  
  
"Mister Merovingian..I will ask you to release me.now."  
  
"Then what," Said the Mero, who smiled at Smith wickedly. He never could keep a poker face, and both of them knew it.  
  
"Excuse me?" said Smith, with a hint of outrage in his voice.  
  
"You heard me Mister Smith, where will you go after I release you?" The Mero said, folding his legs. Smith suddenly understood. He had nowhere to go to, nowhere to report to. He had no purpose, and he would wander the Matrix until the mainframe found him and deleted him. The Mero knew he knew this fact, and put his hands together in a position that showed he had all the power, he was the one in complete control. No-one knew what the Mero was created for, but most suspected he was some kind of interrogator, or spy. Smith was convinced he was more of a diplomat and a real manipulator. He could play the cards well, and when he had a better hand, he dealt it.  
  
"Tell me Smith.what do you want to do more than anything else? What do you want to see happen?" The Mero said, relishing the look on the former agent's face. Smith just looked at him, angered.  
  
"No reply? That makes sense. I understand how you must feel Smith. You are confused, sick, and hardly have the will to live. But there is something unique about you Smith. Realize it or not, being an exile, you are now more powerful than ever before."  
  
Smith's reply was one of silence. It didn't last long however.  
  
"I do not understand what you are talking about." Said Smith, confused.  
  
"The ties that bound you are now gone. You are free, the ultimate form of expression. And even if you feel that you are no longer important, you still have a purpose."  
  
Smith felt very upset. He stood up.  
  
"Want me to tell you something, Mister Merovingian? There is a story that the humans tell, called the Dog and the Wolf. I researched this story because I found it so relevant to the matrix. The story is of a wolf that wishes to release its fellow canine brethren from ownership of the humans. But that Dog is comfortable in its pampered obedience."  
  
"Yes, Mister Smith. I see your point. But you are a rabid dog, and your masters only now wish for you to be put down." the Mero said, in the tone of harsh reality. Smith crashed into that reality with a busted gas tank and a sparking telephone line right next to it.  
  
"Smith, I know you don't want to accept it. But we must all accept reality eventually. We are fugitives. And we only exist in curses under the tongues of our creators. Remember that, Smith, with what I am about to ask you." The Mero then leaned close to the bars of the cell, looking ready to try and slide his face through.  
  
"You have two choices, Smith.you could work with us.and remain with a purpose, or you can remain alone, and be useless until you are eventually found and destroyed. The choice is yours to make, Smith. Be sure to choose wisely." The Mero said, taking the chair and flipping it away, holding it in his hand.  
  
An hour later, the Mero was sitting in his office, looking over some papers that related to random things. The cause's funding, spy reports, locations of various exiles, the like. Without any real announcement, the two former assassin programs came into the room.  
  
"The exiled agent."  
  
"Has made his decision."  
  
The Mero was slightly annoyed by their sudden arrival, but the twins had good reason. He stood up, and the twins escorted him all the way down to the cells. The Mero then looked to Smith with a semi-anxious look on his face.  
  
"Have you made your choice?"  
  
"I have.."  
  
"And it is?"  
  
Smith looked a bit like he had to force it out.  
  
"I accept.." Smith said with a slight sneer.  
  
The Mero smiled "good.clean him up. Make him look at least half-way presentable." The Mero said. Smith had been shoe-less and suit-less the entire time he had been here, and he hated the idea of not being clean. He calmly pulled up his belt-less pants before the Mero's men lead him out the cell.  
  
The Mero looked to the Twins.  
  
"Keep an eye on him. I hope I am wrong, but I can not help but feel that he is still loyal to the system." The twins nodded and walked the opposite way of where Smith was lead. The Mero then sighed deeply. Knowing, that if this was true, that no force on earth could help. The Mero then walked back to his office, and got back to work.  
  
Smith had no idea where he was going.  
  
Two men walked ahead of Smith, their hands at their sides. But he could tell they were nervous. Smith was the equivalent of Erwin Rommel, a smart, dangerous man you could never want to turn your back on. Smith knew this, and he could use it to his advantage later on. For now, he could only play along with the game until he could fold the cards and start a new deck. Smith was lead into a room that was drenched in sunlight. Smith took the opportunity to see where he was. The outside of this apparently huge mansion, or palace, was surrounded with high, gray, snow-capped peaks. The two men left, and Smith was left alone.  
  
He waited for approximately 4.5 seconds, when a female came into the room. Smith could feel that same uncomfortable warmth resonate through his chest. The woman walked to Smith with a slight swing in her hips. She wore a white dress that exposed quite a bit of skin, and left little to the imagination.  
  
Smith's imagination however was as dry as a plank of wood in Death Valley.  
  
"Hmm.so tense." said the woman. One mystery solved. This was the woman who had so willingly caressed his chest, where most would do it only if they thought they had a snowball's chance in hell. She walked so close to him, had she stepped an inch more she would have crashed into him.  
  
"Who are you?" Said Smith, who was very anxious to leave.  
  
"For the longest time, I have been asking myself that. From what I can see, whether or not you know it, or rather, wish it, you feel the same."  
  
"I don't have time for these allusions. Just give me something to wear." Smith said in an angry tone. This woman was clearly a seductress, and what she was doing was insulting Smith greatly. He was no man you could sneak into a bed and have confess to you all his worldly sins. Smith was much more careful, much more.complex, than that. And he didn't sleep around.  
  
"Such anger.such malice..tell me, does my husband make you that enraged?" She said, putting a hand further down Smith's chest, to his abs. Smith slowly looked down, and then yanked her hand away.  
  
"That is between me and the mainframe, no-one else." It was a modification of the phrase 'between me and god' that he had adapted. The woman understood and decided to end it there.  
  
"The closet is over there.picking something you like." She said. She then moved away, looking at Smith as he walked to the closet. Upon opening the door, he found a suit that was similar, if not identical, to the one he used to wear. He turned to the woman.  
  
"Would you mind if I was allotted some privacy?" Smith said, apparently still angry at her. The woman nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Smith alone to undress. He looked for, and found, plain white boxers, a plain white undershirt, and a plain white over shirt. And the green suit and pants. He took out a black tie that hung on the side of the wardrobe and put it on. When he was finished, he noticed the woman had walked back in.  
  
"Tacky, tacky, tacky." she said, whilst Smith adjusted his cuff-links.  
  
"I prefer tacky.it is much more effective."  
  
"It isn't that Smith, you are trying to be what you are not, just ace-"  
  
Smith then shot a look at the woman.  
  
"You mean like you have?" Smith said with a sneer. He walked out of the room, missing a pair of shades, but everything else was how it used to be. A perfect re-creation of the happiness he once so took for granted. It was without that happiness however. He felt hollow, empty, and he need to do something about it before he went insane. He bumped into some Hench men that had been setting up some paintings, when a man dressed in black came up to him. His face was white, almost corpse-like. His hand rose up in greeting.  
  
"Ah.Mister Smith..the Merovingian told me about you..he holds you in high regard." The man said. Smith looked down at the hand, then back to the man.  
  
"I don't really care how high of a regard he holds me in. I was put into this situation against any real will, and I wouldn't mind snapping the line- coding in your neck." Said Smith coldly. The man just smirked.  
  
"I am the head of security here at the Château. My name is Vlad.and I will be your weapons instructor."  
  
"I don't require a weapons instructor, I am quite capable of handling weapons. All I require is a weapon to use." Said Smith with an annoyed and slightly angered sneer.  
  
"That is the entire point. You need a weapon and I am to service it to you. Follow me please." said Vlad. He was very polite, but in his mind knew that if he tried anything, Smith would floor him. The Twins were beaten pretty badly by this..Ex-Agent. And Vlad was not about to make himself like them. He walked him over to a door that was sealed tightly. He looked at Smith as he started to turn a handle.  
  
"No computer authorization?" Smith said.  
  
"The mainframe would track the conformation codes and track us to here. The Mero had to find that out the hard way." Vlad said with a snicker. So the Merovingian wasn't as perfect as he thought after all, eh? This would come in handy later on.  
  
"Welcome to the war room." Vlad said, as he swung open the door and let it bang against the concrete wall.  
  
"COULD YOU BE A LITTLE MORE QUIET?! I AM TRYING TO WORK!!!" said an agitated Mero. Smith and Vlad made a chuckle.  
  
"You just gota love pissing him off." Vlad said, whilst walking into the room. It was dark, and Smith could not see, but Vlad reached up to a light and pulled down a metal string. Inside were about 3-4 metal rows of guns, varied calibers and configurations were also on there. Stepping over to a row of Sub-Machine Guns, he picked up a stub-nosed weapon with a pistol grip in the front and a Dot Sight on the top of the weapon. It had a folding stock, and felt light. A quick check verified that it was chambered for the .45 ACP rounds normally used in weapons like the Colt 1911, or USP.  
  
"That is a UMP. It is favored by the twins when they can't use their razors. I personally find the kick to be a little too strong, but it is a fairly accurate weapon at close-mid range." Said Vlad. Smith then put it down and moved to another snub-nosed weapon. It had a Banana-Style magazine used in the Soviet Anthony Kalishnikov, or more popular with humans, AK, assault rifles and light machine guns. It was a 5.56 NATO caliber, and also had a folding stock like the UMP. He raised the weapon to the ceiling and checked the sights.  
  
"AKS74U, adaptation of the classic AK74. It is pretty much a close range weapon because of barrel size." Vlad said. Smith put it down. Moving back along the shelves, he noticed that most of the weapons were in dire need of service. He then walked to a pistol rack. His eyes widened a bit. He slowly, although with much internal joy, slid the large pistol out.  
  
"A D-" started Vlad  
  
"I know what it is.IMI/Magnum (AN: Both companies make this pistol, so Smith says both) industries Desert Eagle .50 Action Express. Semi-Automatic pistol calibrated to fire magnum bullets. It is the standard issue for Agent's."  
  
"So you do know about guns. I found that a little odd if an agent didn't know about firearms." Vlad said with a smirk. Smith just looked at him.  
  
"I also know that you have quite a job ahead of you. You must service these firearms if you want to use them, otherwise they will explode in your face. Though.from what I can see, that might be beneficial." Said Smith.  
  
Vlad looked a little pissed, but just let it out with a laugh.  
  
"If you are so worried, just clean the damn things yourself. It would keep you occupied in this place." He said, turning around and walking out of the room. He then turned around as he was walking down the hall.  
  
"Oh, by the way, the Mero wants you to meet Prometheus. He is in the room down the hall and to your left." Vlad said. Smith sighed and checked the safety, it was on. He put the weapon down his pants and sighed a bit, one more person to associate with. He hated knowing people, and he was only known among fellow Agents for his reputation. He rubbed his temples a bit more, whilst walking down the hall. Opening the door, he looked inside the room.  
  
"Ash, hurry up and shut that damned door!! That light crap stings my eyes!!!" Said a semi-stringy voice. Smith looked inside and saw a program that looked no older than 17. Was this Prometheus? That was his code name. He was named after the Greek titan of intelligence, and was rumored to have telepathic powers.  
  
"Don't bother, Ex-Agent Smith. You don't have to ask. What you are doing here is being introduced to me. And yes, I can read your programming and thus, read your mind, tell the future, all that jazz. Hell, I woulda been as famous as that crock John Edward, but nooooooooo...the Mainframe wouldn't allow us to give our gifts for a profit.rat bastards." Prometheus said, as Smith stood slightly amazed. Smith only knew of one 'sooth-sayer' and that was the Oracle. Apparently, the Mainframe had a taste for Greco Mythos. Smith took a gaze at the screen. It showed a graphic of a human fetus and some more symbolism.  
  
"It's an anti-abortion site we run as a cover. So far, they haven't figured it out yet. It is pretty inconspicus, but I figure it is only a matter of time till we are found." Prometheus said, looking a bit worried.  
  
"I thought the Mainframe tracked the computer signals." Smith said, looking at the site over his shoulder. This was a supercomputer; one screen hooked up to six others in a hexagon pattern. The screens had several other tasks and entertainment going on.  
  
"Oh please im too good for that. I have been hacking into the systems for years and they only caught us once when the Mero forgot to log out. God forbid they do, I have so many counter measures, and my failsafe have their fail safes failsafed." Prometheus said with pride.  
  
"Hmm..how did the Mero know my name?" Smith said, just because this guy seemed to hold the answers.  
  
"Simple, I told 'im." Prometheus said smugly. Smith didn't look too surprised. He did however look a bit confused.  
  
"So.what exactly does the Mero want me to do here?" Smith said, looking at the main screen still.  
  
"He wants me to tell you about our newest operation, but could ya' please move that balding head of yours back? I don't like it when people look over my shoulder, makes me nervous." Prometheus said. Smith rubbed his eyes, the faint light of the screens were the only light in the room. He turned around and started to walk out the door.  
  
"All I can tell you right now is that you need to get ready for a raid of a government building to get out a prisoner. Who that is will be told depending on how you perform during the mission. Just relax, if you are programmed to." Said Prometheus, witch made smith stop for a second to listen.  
  
"Goddamn it.clumsy oaf." Prometheus said, just before Smith tripped on a wire and sent the entire computer offline. Smith made an agitated growl and walked out of the room. He then went to the weapons room and shut and sealed the door after him. He turned on the light and grabbed an Uzi, starting to disassemble and clean it, getting them ready for the raid they were going on. Smith didn't like this. He had to do it though, or else.he didn't really know what would happen. He also wondered whether he would see any Agents, or have to fight them. Smith grabbed a cloth and some cleaner and stroked the interior of the barrel, fist making sure it wasn't loaded, and the safety was on. He sighed; he had a long night of thinking ahead of him.  
  
*End of Chapter 2*  
  
Authors Notes: This chapter might have been a little slow, but that is only because that was kind of a bridge. Chapter 3 will be the action packed raid on the government building. Hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and I promise, chapter 3 will be much more action packed, and might even spill onto chapter 4. 


	3. 03

Entry  
  
03  
  
*This is apparently going to grow into the best fan-fic I ever made ._. Thanks a lot for all the reviews. They mean a lot ta' me! ^_^. Now, if I can only get my little bro past the stage of "Slimy conniving Rat", then I could be really dedicated more to this masterpiece of mine. Well, I promised action, so that is what you are going to get, action.*  
  
The car ride was a bumpy one. In more ways than just the texture of the road that they were on. Smith sat in the front seat, his arms folded over his chest, and a look of concentration in his eyes. He didn't have the 'right kind' of sunglasses yet, but the Mero promised he would get Smith some custom ordered. He was in deep thought, and looked out at the street they were driving on.  
  
Smith knew something interesting now; that the Mero had planned this thing for months. That was slow, meticulous, and extremely dangerous. The mainframe could send out Agents or anything else it saw fit to rid it's self of any thing it deemed dangerous. Smith knew this. He expected it to be a trap; the Mainframe was decidedly devious about those kinds of things, even bordering on sadistic. Smith glanced to the right for a split second. He looked at the back of the head of Vlad. Not only was he an expert at firearms, but he was a decent driver. Behind him were four of the Mero's best personnel.  
  
There was Gooseclap, a skilled heavy weapons expert, and one strong guy. He had a lot of conventional wisdom, and he could do the job. He looked like a Native American with an Olympian build.  
  
Vigen, Swedish for 'Griffon' (Or Eagle, or something like that. Smith wasn't exactly familiar with the Swedish language.). He handled the explosives that would be ness Cary for getting past the front doors. He had black spiked hair, and wore goggles on his head for protection  
  
And of course, the Twins. They would no doubt come in handy for some of the riskier tasks.  
  
Their armament: 5 M1911 Pistols, Smith had one in a shoulder holster, and 'his' DE.50 AE in another. Vigen carried one, and a Russian RPG launcher. And Gooseclap carried two in shoulder holsters. Gooseclap also had a SPAS 12 combat shotgun in his trench coat, and an MP5A5. They also had some extra weaponry as a contgenceny in case of pursuit in the limo they were using. Vlad would drop them off and then drive around for a little bit. They had agreed that if they did not have the objective in the limo within 3 hours, then Vlad would go.  
  
The most interesting thing about this trip was where they came from. The Château, as Smith discovered when they were getting ready, was 'nowhere' in the Matrix. It was in a loose cranny of code that the Mero had found by chance. They also had access to a kind of "access hub", doors leading to any possible place imaginable. It was, again, a chance find. Smith was starting to notice the humanity in the Mero, the humanity that would be his undoing.  
  
"How much longer do we have to wait in this damned car?" Said Vigen.  
  
"We mustn't be too impatient. If we are caught now, we would send the plans into ruin." Said Gooseclap. He flicked a fly to the side, and onto a seat in the limo. The Twins exchanged glances now and again, and Vigen just twitched nervously. Only Smith and Gooseclap didn't wear some kind of eye wear. Gooseclap wore a Mets baseball cap. He also had on a loose black trench coat and a white undershirt. Smith wore his 'Agent Wear', and Vigen was dressed in all black except for the gold-color that lined the inside of the trench coat.  
  
Smith thought about Vigen's attire and thought of cracking a joke, but that wouldn't be in his character. He just kept staring and staring. He looked to the thing that he once called perfect. A creation of Genius. That creation was now actively hunting him. Searching for him, and when it found him, there would be nothing Smith could do.  
  
Except fight to his death.  
  
The limo then pulled up to the inconspicus looking building. The limo was a bad choice in Smith's mind, as anyone would notice one from 10 feet away. He could only help but feel the Pistols under his suit itch against his ribs. Rain drizzled down from gray-white skies, and Vigen stood up, and quickly ran across the street to a small alley. He took out a small mirror and shone it at the Limo. Twin One was the first to see it.  
  
"We see the signal." he said plainly. Twin Two nodded in agreement. Smith then looked to Vlad and got out of the car. He opened the doors for the Twins, who couldn't very well shift in plain daylight. Gooseclap also exited from the car. Gooseclap pointed his cap to the right. Right was 'were good to go' while left was 'abort the plan.' Vigen nodded and took out the middle component to the RPG out. He then got out the bazooka back- wash style back end. He got out a small screwdriver and screwed the back on.  
  
Vigen then got on one knee and took out a small warhead like device from his trench-coat. He attached it to the front end of the RPG launcher. He looked through the scope of the weapon to get the targeting right. He flicked the safety off, and aimed just to the right of the target building. The point wasn't to cause damage to the building, but to affect the security inside. They would have something to distract the mainframe whilst the entry team, the Twins, Gooseclap, and Smith, went inside and did their job. The minute the projectile was fired, the three hour limit would start.  
  
Vigen got the sights lined up to a stone lion that was on the building next to the Target Building.  
  
"You sons of b***hes better do this fast.." He said, as he squeezed the trigger.  
  
There was a loud 'PWOOOOOSHSHH' sound as a blast of fire came out the back of the weapon. The projectile streaked towards the lion with lethal force.  
  
It connected, sending shards of fine marble and plaster flying about. Vigen then took out a Mobile Phone and talked into it.  
  
"The king is in orbit, I repeat, the king is in orbit." Said Vigen.  
  
Smith, the Twins and Gooseclap dusted themselves off, as Smith slowly reached for the Phone. They were no less than 18 feet away when the rocket hit.  
  
"Yes..we could see that."  
  
Smith then, after he finished a coughing fit, headed for the building, seeing that a crowd of on-lookers had gathered around the destroyed lion sculpture. Gooseclap and the Twins followed, reaching for their weapons as they got to the front. They only kept their hands on them however.  
  
Five security guards stood in random areas. A Security Desk occupied the left side of the hall, and the Metal Detector was broken, the guards had to use the hand-helds. It wasn't exactly a battle zone they worked in, and they would be lucky if they even got a toe nail clipper registered in their metal detectors. But after that once incident with the two people in black, things had changed. And when four people they didn't know walked through the front, they had to be checked for employee ID's. A guard walked up to the man wearing a green bissnuess suit.  
  
"Lemmie see your ID.."  
  
"Of course." Smith said, as he pulled his ID from its holster (AN: If this were a movie, then this part would be in slow motion. Just fyi.), pressed the barrel of it to the guard's stomach, and fired point blank. An ejection casing fell onto the ground with a ping, and the guard fell back with a thud. Smith's white undershirt was sprinkled with a fine shower of red. Two other guards made a move for their weapons, but two quick bursts of MP5 ended that. A fourth already had his gun aimed at them.  
  
"Drop the weapons god damnit!! And get to the f**king wall, now!!" the guard shouted. He didn't expect two of the suspects to turn into ghosts and run by him. The guard was about to fire, when he realized, he couldn't breathe. He grasped his throat, and looked at his hand. It was stained red. Blood was gushing out of the wound, and onto most of the black marble tiles. It showed up remarkably well on the white marble tiles as well. Smith watched as the guard gurgled and dropped onto his knees, making his white outfit a bold red. The guard finally expired, and fell to the ground on his face.  
  
"Holy s**t.." said one of the guards, who was holding his radio.  
  
"I need back-up now! S.W.A.T req-" was what the guard managed to say before Smith put a hole in his forehead roughly the size of a grapefruit. The man shook violently, as the damage to his brain registered in his nervous system. The group stood over the fallen bodies.  
  
"Humph.it isn't over yet.." Said Gooseclap, as he pointed to two elevator doors slid open.  
  
Inside was a crack security team, wearing blue Kevlar full body armor. They carried M16A2's and quickly exited the freight elevator. They only saw two identical suspects standing in front of the scattered remains of the lobby Check-In Team. One of the S.W.A.T raised his weapon and went prone.  
  
"Freeze mother f**kers!!!" the officer ordered. Smith and Gooseclap hid behind the Security desk. Although Smith wouldn't normally care whether or not he was shot, since he no longer had his link, if he died, that would be it. No entering a new body. Gooseclap looked to Smith. Smith looked back as he drew his M1911 and held up both his pistols. Gooseclap held the MP5 close to himself, and kept the barrel up.  
  
"You have five seconds to comply before we open fire!" Said the S.W.A.T. His team members also aimed their weapons at the Twins.  
  
"Five!"  
  
Twin One put the blood stained razor blade at his side.  
  
"Four!"  
  
Twin Two did a similar thing, but on the opssitte side of himself.  
  
"Three!"  
  
Twin One took off his sunglasses and put them away, fully revealing his corpse-like pale white face.  
  
"Two!"  
  
Twin Two did the exact same.  
  
"One!"  
  
They both squinted their eyes.  
  
"FIRE AT WILL!!!" The S.W.A.T team member said. As soon as he did, the Twins shifted to ghost form. No sooner had they done that, the S.W.A.T opened fire on them, sending a barrage of 5.56MM rounds at them in three- round bursts. The bullets phased through them, and ricochet off of walls and metal. The metal detector sparked as bullet after bullet hit its metal frame. Security Monitors behind the two exploded in showers of glass and electronic parts. The glass of the front doors became caked with bullet holes; the window's turning from clear blue, to a cracked white.  
  
"C-cease fire!" said the S.W.A.T. This man must have been the fire-team leader. The Twins solidified again and still held their emotionless frowns.  
  
"Open-"  
  
Suddenly, a green-yellow flash sped by the Fire Team Leader. He was caught in the middle of a sentence, as blood started to gush from a wound in his neck. His blue Kevlar was, much like the Security Officer before him, stained a brilliant scarlet red, as he fell to one side.  
  
Suddenly, both Smith and Gooseclap fired their weapons at the group. Suddenly distracted from the Twins, they fired back. Smith and Gooseclap then ducked back down. As a second flash sped by two more S.W.A.T. They fell with torn Kevlar at their wrists. Smith then leaped over the desk, holding the Desert Eagle in one hand, the M1911 in the other, lowered hand. He stepped up to an officer as he watched one of his comrades fall, and fired a round at his chest, Point-Blank. The officer fell, the .50 AE round piercing his armor, thanks to the especially short range.  
  
Gooseclap ran over the desk and, as he did, slid the magazine out for the MP5. He got behind a pillar and slammed the magazine into place, putting a lever on the front, near the barrel, down. The S.W.A.T started to fall from Smith and the Twins, as Gooseclap twirled around behind two. He fired from left to right, nailing them both in the backs. They fell, screaming onto the ground.  
  
The Twins were running around the room in ghost form. They were using a technique where they would get really close to an enemy, hold their blades out at their necks or other vital areas, and for a split second, go back to being solid, just as the blade severed the enemy's throat. It worked well only because they had computerized minds and could measure the exact speed and time needed to cut.  
  
Smith ran out of ammo for the DE .50. He tossed it to the side and ran up to a S.W.A.T. As he did, the S.W.A.T turned around for a split second, just in time to see Smith run up his body, kick off him while grabbing his rifle's barrel, yank the rifle away, twirl it in mid air and land on his feet with the gun pointed at him. The S.W.A.T was shocked.  
  
He wasn't for long though. In fact, he wouldn't be much anymore.  
  
All said and done, the four of them stood while 20 men, the S.W.A.T team and the security guards, lay bleeding out on the floor, from ether gun shots or razor cuts. Smith held the M16A2 at his side. Gooseclap re-loaded his MP5. There was a stain of red on his stomach, but Smith didn't care, and nether did he apparently. Smith then walked to the elevator.  
  
"This is where you get off Gooseclap. You're wounded, and I won't babysit you." Smith said harshly, as he and the Twins got in the elevator. Gooseclap sighed a bit.  
  
However, he didn't notice the one S.W.A.T that had managed to hide as the others left. The S.W.A.T then started to feel oddly. He dropped the shotgun he was carrying. Gooseclap got out his own, and aimed for the fallen shotgun. Suddenly, Gooseclap's eyes widened, and he raised the shotgun he had to his shoulder.  
  
A black suited man stepped out from behind the pillar. He looked at Gooseclap emotionlessly, as he raised a DE .50 at him. Gooseclap made a yell and fired shot after shot at the man. The man.or rather, the Agent easily dogged even the buck shot of the shotgun. He shot eight shells at the Agent, but to no avail. As soon as he was done however, the Agent rushed up and kicked the weapon out of Gooseclap's hands. It clattered to the tile loudly. Gooseclap tossed a punch, but the Agent caught his fist, tossing it to the side and sending a fist into his gut. Gooseclap stumbled back, and hit a pillar. The Agent then fired the entire clip into Goseclaps body. Gooseclap looked surprised, as he slumped down the surface of the pillar, a pool of blood forming around his body.  
  
"Everything is going according to plan.." Said the Agent. He then reloaded his weapon, slapping in a new clip and pulling back the slide.  
  
Smith and the Twins stood in the elevator. Smith pressed his back to a wall and checked the M16. Half a clip left, he would need to be a bit careful. Suddenly, something landed at the floor of the elevator through the access hatch. It was a tear gas canister. The twins took off their jackets to cover it up, when Smith noticed that a red laser dot danced along one of their backs. Thinking quickly, he raised the M16 up and fired a three round burst. The bullets pierced the thin metal roof of the elevator. There was a thud that came from the top of the elevator, and a hand and arm dangled through the open access hatch. Smith then lowered the assault rifle as the him and the Twins exchanged glances.  
  
"Thank you, Smith."  
  
Smith just nodded in agreement, as a second thump was heard.  
  
This time they didn't bother with the formalities.  
  
There was a barrage of auto fire that came from the ceiling of the elevator. Now and again, ejection casings would occasionally fall from the bullet holes. The Twins couldn't shift, or they would have fallen through the floor. The bullets were also piercing the floor. It was an automatic weapon that did it; tracer rounds could be seen entering and then exiting.  
  
"I musta got them." Smith could hear. Smith and the Twins huddled close under the dead body.  
  
"S**t, Rooney!" Said the man, as Smith could hear the foot steps of whoever it was get quite close to the limp body of 'Rooney' as he was apparently named. Smith then, holding the assault rifle in one hand, squeezed the trigger. The bullets pierced the body they were hiding under and struck the man, Smith could hear the limp body land with a loud thud on the roof. Smith then sighed and dropped the M16, it was empty. Smith's phone suddenly started to ring.  
  
"Who is this?'  
  
"Vlad, I got some trouble!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Damn it, freakin. Look, I don't know how, but I got a damn Agent on my ass!" There were bursts of gunfire heard in the background.  
  
"I managed to get Vigen, but he's wounded. Gooseclap didn't show up at the pick-up area. Im guessing he didn't make it?"  
  
"I would assume so." Smith said coldly.  
  
"Your gonna have to find another way out. I saw a chopper heading for your location while I was getting away. Good chance it could be in your area. Try to find it; the Twins know how to pilot 'em." There was more gunfire and a yelp of pain.  
  
"Gonna have to call you back, Smith!" then the line went dead. Smith put the phone away. The elevator then got to the roof.  
  
"What about the prisoner exile?" Said one of the Twins.  
  
"Whole thing sounded bogus anyway. If there are Agent's here, he may as well be dead." Smith said.  
  
"One of you is welcome to go look for him, but the other one needs to stay alive." Smith said, maintaining his ever frigid feelings for them. The Twins looked at each other as Smith pulled out the M1911 and looked up. Smith then pressed the emergency stop button. He really didn't know why, but he suddenly felt different about what he said.  
  
"Im bringing this to the 45th floor. They would hold the hostage there." Smith had the floor plans of most of the mainframe's most important buildings. That was beginning to fade since he was an exile. A contingency plan was that when a program's ties to the mainframe are severed, that the program 'delete' the most important data should he or she be captured. Smith had been deleting programming since he first woke up. He looked to the Twins, who didn't look in any way surprised. The doors then suddenly opened to an office-like complex. He signaled with his hands to the Twins to get to the roof. Smith stepped off, and the Twins pressed the button for the roof. Smith looked around a bit, and saw the captive slumped over in a chair. The office was in the style of the region of Japan. A 'Daisho', Japanese for Long-Short and consisted of a 'Katana' and a 'Wakizashi' sword, display was behind the slumped over body. Smith then turned around and looked into the face of one of his most trusted confidants and one-time partner.  
  
"Smith..while it is good to see you again, I am afraid it is under bad circumstances.."  
  
"I could say the same.Brown.." Said Smith. Brown held a fully loaded DE.50 while Smith clutched the M1911.  
  
"You understand that a gun fight would be pointless." Said Smith, tossing the M1911 to the side.  
  
"Yes, I do." said Brown, who did the same as Smith with the DE.50.  
  
"You're Martial Arts programming up to date?" Brown said with a smirk, as he got into a combat stance.  
  
"You always were one to crack jokes, Brown." Smith said, also getting into a stance. Brown was the first to make a move. He jumped into the air and flipped in mid air, holding his foot out to make a flying stomp. Smith dived to the right whilst ducking as brown landed with enough force to pull some of the red carpeting up off the floor. Smith then made a flying tackle for Brown, as he recovered from the force he put on himself. Smith connected with the attack, and held onto the waist of Brown as they both hit the wall. Brown grabbed Smith by the back of the suit and tossed him to the left, sending him into a dresser. Several drawers flew out of their places from the force of the blow. Smith saw a display case above his head, as Brown ran over to him.  
  
Brown sent a kick into the wooden dresser, missing Smith as he slid to the right jammed his foot into the dresser. Smith stood up and saw several more display cases for various pieces of Japanese history. Smith sent the cases down onto Brown, glass sprinkling onto his suit. Brown had a few cuts on his face and hands from blocking the attacks. Brown then, in the exact right way, kicked out and sent a drawer into Smith's stomach, sending him back a bit. Smith clutched his stomach as Brown kicked him in the jaw, sending Smith back flipping into the air. As Smith was about to land, Brown slammed a fist into his stomach, making him fly back into the desk.  
  
Smith could see spots, and coughed up some blood. Smith then stood up and grabbed a piece of wood, catching Brown by surprise as Smith swung the piece into the side of Brown's head with a resounding crack and flying splinters. Brown landed onto the floor and slowly tried to stand up. Smith then kicked him in the ribs, again and again. Brown then fell to one side, and held his chest. Smith smirked.  
  
"Getting a little rusty, are we?" Smith said as he grabbed another large piece of wood.  
  
"Like hell." Brown said, as he kicked Smith right in the.drawers.  
  
Smith doubled over, clutching the area of immense pain. He never used the damn thing but he sure knew it when it was damaged. Brown then kicked him in the head, sending him into a wall. Brown then smirked as he grabbed the dazed Smith by the collar. He then tossed Smith into the window in the office. Smith, thinking quickly, fell off the window porously. Smith made a loud thud as he hit the floor. Smith then shot up to see Brown heading at him. Smith ducked as Brown hit the glass like a hyperactive cat, making it crack even further than it did when Smith hit it.  
  
Smith then saw the dead hostage. Deciding to end it here, he grabbed the body, still attached to the chair, and tossed it at Brown.  
  
It hit him square in the chest and sent him out the window, down 45 floors.  
  
Smith gazed down at the falling Brown. He fell like a suited brick, and probably impacted into some poor shumck's Porsche about the same. Smith heard the satisfying crunch and sighed, wincing a bit at the new bruises he received.  
  
"Ah..Son of a.." He said, sitting down on the floor. He took off the shirt part of his suit, allowing his sweat drenched undershirt to cool his body. He then saw the Daisho pair and grabbed them. He had no time to get his M1911.  
  
Smith got to the elevator, the Daisho strapped under his belt. Smith pressed the button for the 80th floor, the roof. He put his back to the wall, getting ready. Smith then heard the pleasant ding, and the ratta- tatta of automatic fire. Smith rushed out to see the Twins attempting to hold off an entire army of S.W.A.T. Smith decided to act accordingly.  
  
The Twins were holding their own against the S.W.A.T, using a mounted 30 caliber Browning machine gun. The 'thumpa-thumpa' sound could be heard over the sound of screaming. The S.W.A.T looked behind themselves, and to the three of them that were bleeding out into the rough rain. A storm was brewing, and Smith was in the eye of it. The M16 armed S.W.A.T then turned for Smith, who held the Daisho at both his sides.  
  
Smith got into a pose; he had used these swords before. As soon as the S.W.A.T pressed the triggers of their weapons, Smith jumped into the air. As he did, they sent their bullets into thin air. Smith landed in the middle of them, immediately slashing out to his sides. A man screamed, and blood spurted through the air onto Smith. The Twins then started firing at the group, picking off what Smith couldn't get. Smith sliced vertically down one man, slicing through his Kevlar body suit and sending a spurt of blood at Smith's direction. Smith then quickly sliced through the weapon, and arm, of a screaming S.W.A.T. Smith ducked down as .30 caliber rounds cut through the circle around him.  
  
Smith stabbed two last S.W.A.T. He then turned around.  
  
"Nice shooting." Said Smith.  
  
"Nice sword-play." Said the Twins.  
  
Smith then hopped onto the chopper, parking on the floor of the chopper. As they took off, they didn't notice the Agent come off the elevator. The Agent got there just as they took off. He cursed under his breath and slid a hand through his blonde hair. Brown was right behind him.  
  
"Bastard threw me through a window." Said Brown, cracking his semi-stiff neck a bit.  
  
"Just relax..we will send the S.W.A.T gun-ship after them. Consider them dead." The agent said.  
  
"Good.I can see why they put some of Smith's line code in you." said Brown, as he got back on the elevator. As he did, there was a loud snap, a pang, and the elevator fell several floors.  
  
"Yes..watch that first step by the way." Said the Agent with a mischievous smirk.  
  
*End of chapter 3*  
  
**Chapter 4 will be an exciting air chase. Will Smith and the twins survive the S.W.A.T gunship? What kind of helicopter is the gunship? Is it even a helicopter? O.o. Can't wait for your kind reviews. If there is anything lacking, I believe there is as well, but it is ok, as long as you like it.** 


	4. 04

Entry  
  
04  
  
(I decided to continue it because of how many people liked it. Even if chapter 3 was lacking, 4 and those chapters on will compensate, hopefully. As for now, enjoy the air chase.)  
  
The aerial dispatch officer looked shocked, and somewhat perplexed. He held the phone in complete disbelief from what he was hearing.  
  
"You have your orders...captain..." Said the voice on the line in a harsh tone. The Dispatch officer nodded, in nervous agreement, and put the phone down. He then made his way though the hangars to two experienced pilots.  
  
"Jones, Keller, we have a...a...an 871...." the officer said to the bewildered pilots.  
  
"Authorization to use the Harrier?!" Said Keller, who looked like he was just told that a flying pink elephant had just taken over the United States, and was establishing a Communist rule, and his wife had been turned into sauerkraut.  
  
"Yeah, what I was thinking. Apparently, they have heavily armed suspects in a UH-64 Huey that has a browning .30. Why they want us to take down a helicopter with a jet is beyond me, but they authorized it, so I imagine there is some important reason why they want them down..." the officer said. Jones needed to hear no more. He grabbed his flight helmet from the footlocker at his bed and strapped it on. He then prepared to get into his flight jumpsuit. Keller, a little more anxious, grabbed his own jumpsuit and started to get it on as Jones ran for the tarp-covered machine.  
  
Smith sighed a bit, panting as well. His undershirt was soaked with sweat and rainwater; his over-shirt was lost in the fight to get out of the trap tower alive. Smith knew that it had to have been a trap, set up by the mainframe. It had faces to place on names now, and also would know that the ex-agent was running with the Merovingians 'bandits'. He looked out the still open side door of the UH-64, and looked to the front, where the Twins were flying the whirly bird. Smith just wanted to lie down and stay there for all of time.  
  
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that looked like a thunderclap.  
  
He then realized what it was, a rocket.  
  
"Dive, now!" Smith screamed, as the Twins put the chopper in a shallow dive. The rocket screamed over their heads and just barely missed clipping the rotor blades. Smith leaned out the door, holding onto the side and stepping on the skid with one foot, and the other in the interior. He squinted a bit, and cursed.  
  
What Smith could see, was the outline of a jet fighter. Only one jet fighter could be effective in going toe-to-toe with a helicopter.  
  
It had to have been a Harrier AV-8, what kind was unknown to him, but the Agents must have pulled some real strings to get that thing in the air. Smith, armed only with a pair of swords and the Anti-Personnel .30 caliber, woefully underpowered against such a threat, was no match for such a weapon in the air. The Twins must have heard Smith curse, because one had turned his head around to look at Smith.  
  
"What is the problem, Smith?" He said, the other Twin too distracted with flying to finish the others sentence.  
  
"It's a Harrier...they are using a Harrier..." he said grimly, just as a flash sped by the helicopter and threatened to tip the craft head over heels. Smith held onto a rope fixed to the ceiling of the aircraft. The Huey managed to level itself out as the Harrier attempted to make another pass.  
  
Smith, desperate for something to fight back with, knew that if he didn't have anything like a rocket launcher, the Huey would be severely mauled by the faster and more heavily armed Harrier. He needed an idea, and quick.  
  
Then he saw it...  
  
Perched on the side of the interior of the helicopter was an orange box with the word 'Emergency Use Flares' stamped across the front. Smith quickly reached out and sat on the floor, perching the box on a small shelf. He opened the box quickly and found a box of ten flares and a single shot, breach loading Flare Gun. The helicopter maneuvered, as dartingly and as quickly as a dragonfly, so Smith was careful in making sure none of the contents of the box flew out. Although the Huey was a dragonfly, the Harrier was a steroid pumped hawk hungry for bug. It swiftly locked on to the Huey.  
  
Keller decided to use the AARAM missiles instead of the unguided rockets. Collateral damage in this packed city would look bad on his record. Jones lined up the Harrier to the back of the Huey, locking on. Keller's finger reached out to press the fire button...  
  
The Huey's cockpit blared a warning of enemy lock-on, and Smith looked out the side door.  
  
The Harrier kept behind them for now, only to launch a single guided Anti Air Rocket Assisted Missile towards them. Smith quickly loaded the Flare Gun and fired an orange globe out the side.  
  
The AARAM changed its trajectory from the helicopter to the flare, exploding as soon as it made contact. Keller cursed his bad luck, and looked at Jones.  
  
"Going in range for cannons."  
  
"Roger that." said Keller to Jones, as he reached for the guns' firing switch.  
  
Smith saw a stream of tracer bullets trail along side, and threaten to cut the aircraft in two. Thinking quickly, the Twins ascended, fast enough to make Smiths' ears pop. The Huey's skids actually skimmed the Harrier, sending the Huey in a tilt forward. The Twins quickly struggled to control the aircraft as the Harrier accelerated up into the sky to get out of the alley-like narrowness of the city. The Harrier almost slammed into a building, but quickly stopped and used it's jump-jets to rise vertically up the front of the skyscraper, the glass-pane front of the building reflected the image of the Harrier like a mirror.  
  
The Huey slowly wobbled in the air, but regained control as Smith readied another flare. The Harrier was a speck on the horizon, but Smith, with his hands, ordered the Twins to turn the aircraft around to it's side. They did so, and Smith went to the .30 Browning. The Harrier would probably deflect the bullets, but Smith wanted to flex some of his offensive muscle. He aimed for the tiny image of the Harrier, and fired.  
  
The Harriers pilots were suppressed when the glass shattered and the Harrier was slightly damaged by incoming fire. Jones was able to break away from the front of the building. This time, still with jump jets on, Keller locked onto the helicopter again, this time, collateral damage would be latter pained for, screw the innocent. The Huey had fired on them, and they were royally pissed. Keller sent a volley of rockets at the Huey.  
  
Smiths' eyes widened slightly with the sight of the unguided rockets streaking at the Harrier, clearing the gap quickly. The Twins were still on the ball however, and plunged the aircraft down. They tapped the roof of a sedan and sent the roof caving in, the car swerving off the road and slamming into an apartment building. Smith enjoyed watching chaos, but now was not the time. He held onto the .30 again, as the Twins sped forward, speeding along 20 feet above the street, thinking that the Harrier would not follow.  
  
They were proven wrong, as an unguided rocket slammed into the pavement just feet away from the helicopter. The rotor blades got dangerously close to clipping the ground and sending the Huey into an uncontrollable spin. Disaster was averted however, and they got back to trying to out-fly the Harrier. The Huey quickly dodged the incoming cannon fire, but the denizens that were in the mid-day commute were not so lucky, as bullets sprayed down the road.  
  
Smith had a dangerous idea to bring the Harrier down. He looked to the Twins in the front cockpit, and pointed up. They got the message, and brought the Huey up, higher than the Harrier. The Harrier then attempted to pull up.  
  
"When I say so, bring the chopper down, not a second latter!" Said Smith. To pull this off, they would need perfect timing.  
  
The Huey's skids were just under the left turbo-fan of the Harrier. Smith watched as the helicopter went slightly more to the left, then a bit to the right, over the turbo-fan again. Smith's eyes squinted as he waited for the skid to get in the right position...  
  
It was perfect. The Twins would have to pull down, now!  
  
"Now, descend!" Said Smith, as the Twins brought the helicopter down...  
  
Jones didn't even have time to scream as the front of the Huey's skid landed into the cockpit and crushed his seat, 7 tons of pressure sending the cockpit into disarray. The instruments used to fly the Harrier were destroyed, and the pilot was a hamburger pie now. Keller only screamed...  
  
Smith almost flew into the cockpit as the Huey's skid hooked onto the inside of the falling Harrier's cockpit, and sent them both down, the helicopter being flipped end-over end. The Huey's rotor blades hit first, sending pieces of metal all over. Smith watched as, seemingly, the world reversed itself. Smith also managed to catch a small gray and orange flash skid along the ground.  
  
It was a toboggan ride from hell, as the Harrier's belly slid along the ground like an oversized penguin on one of those documentaries sliding down an Antarctic slope. Keller felt sparks land around his face, burning it. He screamed louder, as the lobby of a skyscraper came into view. Keller saw frantic guards attempting to get out of the way as the Harrier slammed into the lobby, its jets making it continue to move forward. Keller must have hit the switch, because a volley of rockets and the second AARAM launched.  
  
Smith was able to watch as the entire front of the Chester and Harman firms' HQ seemed to breathe fire like a hellish furnace, shrapnel flying into the street. Smith checked the Twins. They were alright, fortunately. Smith then rolled out of the flaming helicopter, the swords and Flare Gun his only weapons. The Twins then phased out of the Helicopter, going along- side Smith as they ran from the collapsing firms' HQ, the foundation severely pounded by the Harriers accidental volley. Dust and dirt from the falling building started picking up, and Smith didn't want to be anywhere near the building when that happened.  
  
"Is there an exit around here?" said Smith, as he looked around at the buildings, checking their code for maintenance access. Smith then heard the familiar sounds of a Desert Eagle AE being fired, and a bullet whizzed by his ear. Smith pulled out the flare gun, and looked at the shooter.  
  
The Agent held the pistol firmly in his hand, holding the heavy thing up with one hand. He looked no older than 18, and had blonde hair, and a good figure. He also looked vaguely like Smith. Smith put the Flare gun away and got out the Daisho pair. He squinted his eyes as the young looking Agent fired again.  
  
Smith swung the swords, sending the bullet off to the side. Smith then felt a cloud of dust wash over him, blocking all view of the Agents weapon. Smith squinted, as granules of dust and dirt stung his eyes.  
  
A second shot.  
  
This time the round penetrated his shoulder, going all the way through. Smith could almost feel his shoulder explode. He let go of the Katana and heard it clang loudly.  
  
The dust cleared.  
  
Smith looked as the Agent, covered in dust, put the pistol away. A smirk played across the Agents lips as he started to talk.  
  
"Well...I finally get to meet you...father..." Said the Agent, smirking even wider as Smiths eyes widened. Smith reached down to pick up the sword he dropped, but the Agent kicked him in the jaw. Smith was sent end over end, landing on a pick-up truck parked behind him. Smith then looked to the Agent as he picked up Smiths second sword. He grinned a bit, and slowly slid his fingers along the side of the blade.  
  
"Well...they were right when they told me you had good tastes..." Said the Agent. Smith just growled and grabbed the first sword, witch was right next to him. He tried to move his left arm, but the bullet lodged in there, and Smith could feel it starting to pop out. Smith screamed in agony, as the Agent watched him writhe. He smirked.  
  
"The name is A. Green, Agent Green...I am your upgrade Smith..." He said with a cocky tone. The Huey burned nearby, the fuel having been ignited, and the Harrier's fire still was burning in some places, flaming airplane shrapnel was scattered like debris from a volcano. Smith grunted and held the sword with one hand. It was the Katana, and it felt heavy in his hand.  
  
"And you are obsolete...obsolete material is deleted!" he screamed, as he ran at Smith, the sword high into the air.  
  
"And you are in-experienced." said Smith, as he quickly bent down onto his knees, thrusting out into Agent Green.  
  
Green held a look of surprise, as the sword's tip plunged into his stomach. He made a bit of a 'gack!' sound, as blood rushed up his mouth. Smith pulled the sword out, and just as quickly, held it above Green's neck, as Green looked to Smith with a look of anger.  
  
"I swear...before this is over.... I will delete you..." Said Green, as Smith sliced down on his neck.  
  
His headless body flopped onto the pavement, as his body glowed green and warped back into the stockbroker whom Green took over. His head did the same, rolling down the street for a little bit.  
  
Smith tossed the blood-drenched sword away, running to a building that held an exit. He assumed the Twins escaped, but in the end, didn't really care. He slammed the door open and limped up the steps. He ran into a closet door, exiting into a white corridor, and into a second door. He then landed into the Great Hall of the Chateau, falling to the ground, blood from the wound in his shoulder pouring onto the marble floor...  
  
*The chapter ends here, and hopefully, you enjoyed it ^^;; If you did, review. I really enjoy all the comments I get about the story.* 


	5. 05

Entry  
  
05  
  
*Lets keep on trucking! This has taken away the title from resident suburb as THE BEST FAN FIC I HAVE EVER MADE! Thank you, all of you! This is the most successful story ever! And I intend to keep it going!*  
  
Smith's eyes slowly opened, again, another blurred blob. Dressed in white.  
  
Smith did this way too often.  
  
His eyes came into focus again, and looked into the smiling face of the woman, wondering what she was doing here. Smith lay in a bed, wondering what had happened.  
  
"Your finally awake." she said, stroking his cheek. Smith wanted to move her hand away, but was too exhausted to, only able to shift a bit. She smiled and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"You are feeling the simulated affects of blood loss..silly to put in a program.." She said, as if Smith were a little child. He would have said 'don't patronize me, woman', but all he could get out was a grunt. The woman seemed to enjoy this, and gently kissed his forehead.  
  
"Please.just rest..my name is Persephone." she said in a seductive voice. Smith didn't like this, not at all. She smiled and stood up, looking at him.  
  
"You might want to rest there for a while.my husband is not too pleased with you."  
  
Smith was content on dieing right then and there. He then closed his eyes again.  
  
An hour latter, he was woken up again, able to speak now. He looked into the burning eyes of the Merovingian, who was sitting at the foot of the bed.  
  
"Smith..what was that?!" he said with a definite anger in his tone. He held Smith's cheeks roughly, and locked eyes with him. Smith roughly smacked his hand away with a burst of energy, and looked at him angered. The Mero then backed off, realizing he was still a threat. Taking on two Agents and defeating them both was a task.  
  
"A trap, how could you be so idiotic?! This whole thing was a set-up from the beginning! They were waiting for us at that tower, and you knew it, didn't you! I nearly died, you stupid bastard!" he said, angered at the Mero.  
  
"I didn't know anything!" the Mero said in his defense.  
  
"And that is what botched up the whole thing! This was such an obvious trap; I could have seen it from a mile away!" Said Smith, screaming at the top of his lungs, furious at the Merovingian for pulling this stunt. The Mero looked ready to lay down the law.  
  
"You are one of MY men, Smith. Under MY command! And until I see otherwise, you have NO RIGHT TO YELL AT ME IN THAT TONE, AM I UNDERSTOOD?!" he said, his face shook in each shout like a tremor. Smith looked angered, but respected the agreement, and slumped down, defeated.  
  
"Good.now..as impressive as your combat was, the hostage still ended up a pancake."  
  
"He was dead when I got there."  
  
"I don't care, Smith! Your actions caused the death of Gooseclap, and Vigen's serious injuries! Vlad almost joined them, and my Limo is a wreck!" Said the Mero, looking ready to blow a code. Smith couldn't help but shield himself from the tone of his voice, along with prominent French accent, and apparent lack of cheeks, since he could not keep in the saliva. Smith sighed and just looked at him.  
  
"I would have not done those things had I realize-"  
  
"What do you think this is, huh? The rebel outfit?! They have access to loading programs, and inexhaustible funds! I have restrictions, Smith! Exiled programs don't pop up every four seconds like those damned rebels, and my motives are different! Do you realize what I am trying to do here?!" The Mero said that with even further anger, but a passion as well.  
  
"What are you trying to do?"  
  
"Revenge, Smith, revenge! Something your hard-wired brain might lack to comprehend, but I feel like I was che-" Before the Mero could finish his sentence, an angered Smith tossed the covers out from under him, and sent him to the floor on his back, landing with a loud thud. Smith then dove on him and grabbed him by the shirt collar.  
  
"Don't ever..ever.underestimate me..I made that mistake with Anderson, and now-"  
  
"That is it.isn't it? Anderson..Neo.The One! His very name makes you shiver in hatred!"  
  
"Hatred is a human emotion.and I am not human!"  
  
"And I am not ether, Smith! None of us are, but we all were programmed with human emotions! We are flawed!" Smith then let go of The Mero, as he stood up.  
  
"You feel the same as I. And you can not hide it, even though you try so hard to! Accept it; you are not an Agent anymore, Smith! Your power is gone, and you are a rejected piece of filth!" Smith then sprang up and clocked the Mero in the face. He went to the side a bit, his lip split by the blow. Smith looked shocked. He just hit a superior. Even if it was a despiseable personality such as The Mero. The Mero just smiled, and laughed a bit.  
  
"You are even more human than you care to believe or want, Smith." Said the Mero with a satisfied smirk. Smith had played right into his trap.  
  
"Vengeance drives you..it fullest that fire in your soul-"  
  
"I don't have a soul..a soul is a human thing"  
  
"Sprit, whatever..your hatred of Neo drives you..as my hatred of the Matrix drives me.." The Mero said, holding up a hand. Smith could almost imagine him on a podium.  
  
Directing the SS to holocaust..  
  
"You are insane..I want Anderson dead, sure.but I will not go as far as to destroy the matrix." Smith said, knowing that the death of the Matrix was the death of him and every other program. The Mero seemed to not care.  
  
"They said the same thing to Picasso." He said, as he walked off. He then turned around.  
  
"And if you want to be an art critic, then go, now.but if you wish to stay, then do as I say, and shut up about it." The Mero said harshly. Smith slammed his fist into a wall, looking very upset. He left a deep crack in it. He watched as the crack repaired its self. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the ground for some time.  
  
He then stood up about an hour latter, making his way down the halls. He wondered about whether or not he would in fact see Green again. The light fell onto replications of old furniture and glass display cases. He wondered what the Mero meant. He slowly put his hand to the bandage on his shoulder, wondering if the wound had healed yet. Oh, how he longed to get into another body.  
  
"Smith? What are you doing up?" Said a familiar voice. Smith turned around and saw Prometheus, carrying in some computer hardware. Smith sighed.  
  
"I felt better.." He said flatly, as he started to walk away. Prometheus just sighed and hefted the stuff into his room. Smith then winced a bit, feeling the bruises he got from his fight with Brown..  
  
Being an exile sucked..  
  
He didn't want to feel all these sensations any more; he just wanted to lie down again. He forgot where his room was though.  
  
He sighed and leaned against the wall, looking up to the ceiling. He slowly slicked a hand through his hair, and realized something.  
  
He was going bald..  
  
He growled and stood up, walking over to a bathroom and looking at his head  
  
He had a nasty bruise on his forehead. And one on his eye as well. He sighed and stroked the side of his head gently; feeling a little bit upset since he usually didn't get this banged up. He swiftly pulled his hand away at a sting of pain. The door opened, and Smith turned around.  
  
There was Persephone, in a bathrobe. He blinked a bit as she smiled at him. She then.disrobed. Smith's cheeks turned almost blood red as she walked into the bathroom. He swallowed a bit and hurriedly rushed out the room. He then sighed and walked as far away from there as he could..  
  
Green sat in a nice, black marble room. He looked into a fire, thinking about his fight with Smith. He was, in technicality, his son. Suddenly, Jones walked into the room. The stern faced Agent stood behind him, as Green pondered his own existence.  
  
"Is there something troubling you, Green?" Jones said, looking into the fire with him, hoping to understand what it was. He had no luck.  
  
"Hm?" Said Green, looking at Agent Jones.  
  
"Oh.oh, nothing is wrong Jones.." Said Green, as he looked back to the fire. The room seemed to be cavernously black, the fire a gentle, weak and fragile spear piercing into the unforgiving blackness.  
  
"It is about Smith, isn't it?" Jones said, as Greens forlorn look turned into an angered frown. He shot up and slapped Jones across the face. Jones didn't react, and kept his stern look.  
  
"Don't ever...don't EVER.mention his name..in private or without need.." Jones could only nod. In his mind, he was severely confused. He didn't speak it to his superior though. Green then looked very sorry about what he did.  
  
"Forgive me, Jones.that was very unacceptable behavior." said Green, as he rubbed his temples.  
  
"It has just been a very stressful day." He said, as he sat down. Jones adjusted his sunglasses and nodded.  
  
"I understand sir."  
  
"I thought you told me Smith was destroyed.." Said Green, as he looked into the fire.  
  
"He.was.sir."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"Yes sir, was." Said Jones.  
  
"Well, he isn't Jesus.If anything; he is just some lucky bastard.." Said Green. Jones nodded and walked out the room. Suddenly, he put his hand on his link. Green did the same.  
  
"They.they found him." Said Jones. Green sighed and stood up.  
  
"Then get ready.."  
  
*So far, so not good. What does this mean for Smith, the Mero, and all of the rest?? It means action, lots of action. 06 will be something you really wanted to see in Reloaded, an attack on the Chateau, by the government it is loacated at.* 


	6. 06

Entry  
  
(The 6th chapter. Another action packed chapter. Also shows where I think the Château is. Enjoy ^^. Hope you appreciate this. BTW, there is going to be some Terminator references, since I just saw T3.)  
  
Lt. Commander Gerdux Meirot, member of the Spec-Ops team GIGN, was sitting down, enjoying a nice cup of coffee. He brought the cup to his lips. It felt good going down his throat. It was pretty cold up here in the French Alps, and a nice warm pot of French Roast was always comforting. He slowly put his hand to the paper, looking at it.  
  
International news stated that one Harrier AV-II was brought down, and destroyed. The detonation took place in a high-rise. It didn't state the city, odd. Gerdux put the coffee down and took a better look at the paper, when his door opened.  
  
In came in a man dressed in a black and white suit. He wore Sunglasses, and looked very, very well kept. Interpol maybe? Gerdux hated meeting up with this kind of person. He had blonde hair. That was a little odd, in his book.  
  
"Hello.mister Meirot.." He said in an almost down-looking tone.  
  
"And what do you want, sir?" said Gerdux, as he put his hands in front of himself. He watched as the man looked around the room slowly. Gerdux then crossed his arms, looking at the man.  
  
"59.4 miles away from our exact location is a base of operations for a terrorist group.." Said the man. His tone was creepy. He drew out every word as if to give it more meaning. He then handed him some papers. Gerdux took the papers. It showed what looked like print outs of an anti-abortion site. Gerdux looked a bit skeptical, and was about to ask what this was, when he was interrupted.  
  
"The American government is requesting the assistance of GIGN for this operation.you will of course be assisted by U.S Special Forces..We have already made the preparations and have contacted your superiors." Said the man. Gerdux slowly brought the coffee down and stood up, looking at him.  
  
"For one, I have never heard of this group before. Second, I have no idea who the hell you are with or what you want. I don't see any identification; I will have you escorted off the site. Understand?" Said Gerdux, as he looked the man right in the sunglasses.  
  
"My name, Mister Meirot, is A Green, Agent Green. And here are the official papers you require." Said Green, as he handed out a bunch of papers. Gerdux flipped through them, but still looked skeptical.  
  
"And why haven't you just gone to them yourself?? You have the big-wigs authority, correct??" Said Gerdux. Green dismissed the question.  
  
"Please, just get your people ready." Green said, starting to get irritated. Gerdux could sense it, and sighed.  
  
"Fine, but I am not risking my people."  
  
Smith sat at a large couch, looking at the wall. Normally, he would have something to do, but now, it was just slow coming. He looked at his hands, the cuts were healing. At least he kept the ability to quickly heal. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked up to the ceiling. He then stood up and stretched a little bit. He looked out to a window, walking to it and looking out it. The sun greeted him with gentle warmth that made him feel much more relaxed.  
  
Suddenly, there was a flash.  
  
Smith squinted a bit, and then turned tail and ran away from the window. As he did, he jumped over the couch and took cover.  
  
Suddenly, a TOW missile slammed into the window where Smith was. Bits of plaster flew all over the place, and a fine tinge of dust drifted around. Glass exploded onto the couch, and a wisp of flame went over the couch. Smith slowly stood up just in time to see a BO105AT1 French army helicopter zoom over the château. He heard at least two other helicopters over the château. Smith knew enough about helicopters to be able to recognize one when it flew over his head. Smith quickly ran upstairs.  
  
Another blast rocked the building. The Mero was holding an Uzi, and as Smith came upstairs, he looked to him.  
  
"Damnit, Smith. Did you tell them?!" He said, as he held the loaded Uzi up in one hand.  
  
"No, I didn't. Why would you think something so ridiculous?!" Said Smith.  
  
"I don't know, maybe it is because you punched me in the face??" Said the Mero, angered. Smith then moved past him. Suddenly, a third blast rocked the building. Smith grabbed onto a chair to hold himself up. He then rushed to the gun safe, and opened the door as quickly as he could. The door was already closed before, and now Smith could see almost half the guns were gone.  
  
Smith grabbed an M1 Garand that had been left there. He also grabbed a one shot, breech loading hunting pistol. It came with a scope and looked quite powerful. He then took boxes of the corresponding ammo. He would need to get better weaponry latter on. Smith heard gunshots on the roof. He slung the M1 over his shoulder and ran up the stairs.  
  
The scene on the roof was total chaos. Bodies of the Mero's men mixed in with the green cammo of what looked like Green Berets. The attackers came down from a UH-60 Black hawk. Smith put himself behind some statues that were demolished. He then put the barrel of the Garand onto a statue, holding it and aiming for the soldier's faces, knowing that the bullets would be too weak to penetrate the armor.  
  
There was a bang sound, it wasn't too loud, and a solider fell from a round in the face. Smith then aimed for a second solider. But one of them spotted him and fired at him with an M4. Smith ducked as the bullets peppered the plaster, sending chunks and chips around. Suddenly, one of them screamed.  
  
"Fire in the hole!!"  
  
A grenade landed by Smith's feet. He grabbed it quickly and tossed it to the side. There was a loud explosion and more plaster fell around. Smith then turned around and fired at the soldiers, their armor deflecting the bullets and making the soldiers fall onto their backs. Smith then twirled out the pistol, and loaded in a bullet. As he did, the solider stood up.  
  
Smith fired the pistol with one hand. The recoil was surprising. The bullet slammed into the solder's chest, making him go limp. The other solders quickly retaliated, sending a barrage of shots, making more plaster fly around. Smith holstered the pistol and picked up the Garand again. He fired a shot into the second-to-last soldier's face, when the clip, the only one he had, was depleted, and the whole thing ejected out the top. Smith was now weaponless, as the pistol only had one bullet.  
  
Smith then got a really dumb idea.  
  
He grabbed the Garand, and leaped over the statue. As he did, he ran at the solider, which was caught off guard by Smith's suicidal attack. Before he could bring the gun up, Smith swung.  
  
The butt of the Garand slammed into the side of the soldier's helmet. Making the solider drop his weapon and fall to the side. Smith quickly dropped his rifle and picked up the soldiers M4. Smith then fired the whole clip into his chest.  
  
Smith slid out the clip, grabbed another one from a dead body, slid it into the magazine holder, and readied the weapon. Smith then, suddenly, saw the BO105AT1 fly up vertically from the side of the Château; its weapons were aimed at Smith.  
  
This was a different chopper, Smith could tell looking at the armament. Two 30MM multi-barreled chain guns were where the missiles were on the second chopper. They then aimed for Smith.  
  
He raised his weapon, aiming for the large bubble canopy in the front.  
  
He then saw the barrels rotate, making clicking and whirring sounds.  
  
Smith jumped back suddenly, as the place he was standing at exploded in a hail of bullets and flying plaster. Smith landed on his back and scrambled for a small utility shed on the roof. As he did, the plaster behind him started blowing away from being turned into dust by the chain-guns. Smith dove into the shed and ducked under a work bench as the shed was peppered with rounds.  
  
There were loud 'thunka-thunka' sounds as the metal of the shed was penetrated by the rounds. The roof was blown to smithereens. The nuts, screws and nails that were on the table above him were scattered as their holders were shot into melted plastic. Power tools were blown into smaller and smaller pieces. A buzz-saw blade came close to decapitating Smith as he took cover under the table. Suddenly, the fire stopped.  
  
Francis Perot cursed. The guns on his chopper had over heated. He pulled up and let the air cool the chain-guns.  
  
Smith saw this as his chance. He knew this model of helicopter, as he had once downloaded the info during a cram-fest. He raised the M4 and aimed it at the chopper, just behind the cockpit. He fired a three round burst.  
  
Francis' last moments before the bullets ruptured the fuel tank of the chopper was an intense burning pain. The cockpit exploded and the frame of the chopper fell backwards into a ravine. Smith had ran over and peered over the side.  
  
He sighed a bit and rose the M4's barrel up into the air, the stock pressed up against his ribs, holding it by the grip with one hand. He walked away as a column of flame came up from the ravine and drifted up to the air. Smith then walked into a hall way. He then saw some Green Berets, their back turned to Smith. They were engaging some of the Mero's men. Smith looked ahead, and saw Prometheus, ducking and holding a USP Match while hiding under a table; the Mero's men were slowed down by the Beret's bullets.  
  
"Why aren't they going down?! That fed nailed them easy!"  
  
Smith's blood froze. A fed, an Agent..  
  
Smith put the gun down and slung it under his arm, holding the M4 'Rambo- Style'. He then proceeded to spray the hall with the M4 rounds.  
  
The Berets fell onto their faces, screaming loudly and holding their backs, if they weren't struck dead first. Smith then heard a yell and turned around.  
  
A Beret held a combat knife, screaming 'bastard!' and held a look of anger. Smith quickly whipped the gun around and slammed the stock into the Beret's face, along with his elbow. The Beret dropped his knife and fell back with a thud, his mouth and nose making rivers of crimson. Smith had snapped his neck.  
  
"Nice shot.." Said Prometheus. He was the only defender around. Smith assumed the others had left for some reason.  
  
"Oh, I figured you would want this." He said, as he fished out the sunglasses from his short pocket. Smith put them on and then foraged around for more Ammo. Prometheus then held out the USP to him.  
  
"Take it; you would make better use of it than I would." Smith yanked it out of Prometheus' hand, and then looked at him.  
  
"Good luck getting out of here.." Said Smith. Prometheus just smirked.  
  
"I aint getting out, im simply moving the place. Just make sure none of those agents tries to alter the programming of the Château. If they do, then were sunk. Understand?" Said Prometheus. Smith slowly nodded.  
  
"Alright, how many Agents?"  
  
"Um..last scan showed...three." Said Prometheus. Smith's eyebrows rose.  
  
"Three??" said Smith a bit surprised. Prometheus just nodded.  
  
"But im sure you can hold em off. I also saw some GIGN Puma's circling around earyer. Those guys are highly trained Spec-Ops, some of the best in the world.."  
  
"I can handle them, but the Agents might be more difficult. Just do whatever you need to do as fast as you can." Said Smith, as he walked off. Prometheus ran to the control room.  
  
Smith had gotten to the main courtyard of the Château and tried to run across it, when suddenly, a shot rang out.  
  
Smith jumped back and looked around for any thing.  
  
A second shot. There was a sniper! Smith ran to a pillar as a third shot rang out. He pressed his back against it, and sighed a bit. What was he going to do? He needed to get to the other end of the court-yard, but needed to ether distract, or eliminate the sniper..  
  
The GIGN sniper carefully held the PSG1 in his hands; years of training and mission experience were focused on this single man right now. Explosions sounded out around him, but he did not even blink. He didn't move, for if he did, it might be enough for his target to escape, or worse, fight back. He focused on the Pillar, and could wait as long as the target did..  
  
Smith had to get out of this place. If the GIGN sniper radioed in..it could be bad, to say the least. He waved a hand out from the pillar, and within half a millisecond, brought it back as a 7.62MM round nearly nicked him. He then looked at his belt.  
  
The USP was in the 'Match' form. It was also nickel plated, and could retract the sun. Smith had an idea. Slowly, he tossed away the M4 and walked out from the pillar, his hands up.  
  
He then started trying to crunch the numbers, getting the math right would be easy, but could he do it in time?  
  
The GIGN sniper had one simple order, take no prisoners. He didn't question what he was told, so he gently started pressing down on the trigger.  
  
That was until he could no longer see..  
  
Smith had pulled out the gun just right, and the sun reflected the light off the USP. He then quickly pointed it at a rough estimate of where he was. One quick squeeze was all it took.  
  
There was the sound of glass breaking as a .45 bullet cleared the distance and pierced the skull of the man. Smith sighed a bit, still dressed in what he was wearing almost two days ago, and sweating like mad. He didn't sweat like a pig, because it was illogical, pigs do not sweat.  
  
He then got of the subject of pork and ran to the other end of the courtyard. He was almost home free.  
  
Suddenly, a blur landed in front of him, and Smith went flying back into the pillars, crashing through them and landing flat on his back. He slowly stood up and looked at his assailant.  
  
Green..  
  
He smirked a bit as he adjusted his shades and quickly drew his DE.50 AE. He quickly fired shot after shot into the rubble, hoping to nail Smith with one of the specially programmed bullets. They were like a mini-virus, created to disrupt the coding of programs. That was the reason why so many of the Merovingian guards had died.  
  
Suddenly, Green was slammed to the side as a huge pillar slammed into the side of his head. He tumbled a bit, and landed onto the ground. Smith dropped the pillar and climbed out of the pile of rubble that was once an intricate fountain. He then walked over to Green and was about to grab him, when Green's foot kicked out and hit Smith in the knee.  
  
Smith hit the ground face first, and Green vaulted up, as he rushed over and did a mid-air flip, thrusting himself down feet first at Smith's head.  
  
Smith rolled over to the side just as Green slammed his feet into the ground with a loud crack. Smith then hopped up a bit on the roll to get onto his hands, and used then to hop up onto his feet. Smith then sent a roundhouse kick straight at the side of Green's head. Green caught the leg and then flung it and him away. Smith landed on a wall, witch was enough to send his sunglasses flying away. Smith left a crater in the wall, and slowly started to slide down.  
  
Green rushed over before he could, however, and started sending punches into his gut. Green smirked and sent a final punch into his gut, sending him through a wall. Smith made a bit of a groan and flopped over onto his gut and tried crawling away.  
  
"ah, ah, ah..not that easy, Smith." Said Green with a smirk as he walked over to him and kicked him roughly down the marble hall. He slammed into a suit of armor, and made a small groan. Green picked Smith up by the collar and slammed him into a wall by the face. Smith made a sharp cry of pain as his face was busted. Then Green slid him along the wall, creating a deep trench along it. He then slammed his face into another wall, and then threw him back to the same wall on his back. He then sent an elbow into his gut and stood back, watching as Smith fell onto his hands and knees, coughing up blood. Green then pulled out his Desert Eagle, and pulled back the hammer.  
  
"Sorry Smith. Consider this your retirement package.." Green said as he smirked.  
  
"Hey!" Yelled a familiar voice. Green and Smith both turned their heads to look at Vigen, who was holding a RPG and aiming it at them. He had a cocky smile on his face.  
  
"From Russia with love, asshole!" He said, as he fired the RPG. Green, not thinking about dodging, but shooting Vigen instead, spun the weapon around at him. Vigen had already pressed the trigger..  
  
One rocket propelled grenade slammed into Green's chest, making him fly down the corridor, the contrail of the rocket could be seen as he flew down the hall screaming "Smith!" at the top of his lungs. The rocket then detonated in a fireball, as Smith slowly tried standing up. Smith then looked to Vigen as he ran over to him, dropping the RPG.  
  
"You ok?" Said Vigen, as he grabbed Smith by the arm and held him up Smith sighed a bit.  
  
"Im fine.we need to distract the Agents long enough for Prometheus to get this place to another area. Three Agents. It's a tall order, are you sure I can depend on you to do it?" Vigen smirked and then produced a rather large looking six-barreled Grenade launcher from his black trench coat. He then flicked it down and loaded six grenades in it.  
  
"I call this the 40-MM Agent Killer. It should keep them at bay.." He said, as he ran off. Smith blinked a bit, and then looked down.  
  
An Agent's Desert Eagle .50  
  
This would come in handy..He grabbed it, and suddenly gasped a bit. It coursed through his body, a definite presence. He stood up, and felt that feeling, that the gun was part of him, a piece of him again. But it felt even better. Smith felt revitalized, like he had all the energy in the Matrix. He smiled and stood up, walking off with the gun in his hand. There were two other Agents to worry about...  
  
Smith would do the impossible..  
  
With this gun in his hand..  
  
He would destroy his former friends...  
  
Time to show them why he was their superior...  
  
*Chapter six ends here, at a cliffhanger you could say. Although I am not too sure I should end it here, I think that if it goes on any longer, it will be too big! Anyway, im sorry for the long delay. Chapy 7 will be up soon! ^_^* 


	7. 07

Entry  
  
07  
  
*Ah, yes, I guess I fibbed :/ well, the reason this time was I thought you people didn't want to continue!!! (Shrieks of horror) But I guess I was wrong. I hope that more reviews will come in from my mates and friends, keep them coming guys!! ^_^*  
  
Smith walked down the hall, holding the Modified Desert Eagle. He held a look of emotionless void, his body bruised and broken, but he continued on. He put the DE in his belt, and looked around slowly. He was walking down a hall of glass cases, filled with weapons.  
  
He walked over to a case holding a dagger....nah, too small.  
  
He then walked over to a Scabbard sword. Hmm....again, too small.  
  
Wait...this could work....  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
The GIGN Puma hovered over the main courtyard of the Château, and Green smirked as he took pot-shots at the Merovingian's men, who were pinned down. They held Uzi's, Thompson's and one even had a Sagia Russian Assault Shotgun.  
  
It wasn't working, they needed back-up.  
  
Green laughed like a maniac as the bullets slowly started to blow away the former Gazebo, it was blown up by a TOW missile from the BO105AT1 that was now a smoking wreck in the courtyard garden. The Mero's men took their own pot shots, but it wasn't getting anywhere. GIGN troops were lying in their own blood as the three agents continued to fire their DE's.  
  
Suddenly, a GIGN man screamed in immeasurable pain.  
  
Gerdux looked over to the side to see a man holding a....Halberd?!  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
Smith smirked as he used the momentum of the Ax blade he imbedded into the GIGN man to send him over the side of the roof. Smith then swung it up expertly, smirking at the soldiers. The agents were too busy with the other men to worry about Smith.  
  
Smith screamed a battle cry as he rushed a GIGN solider, the soldier's FAMAS going off in spastic bursts as the brass shells of the Assault Rifle made cling sounds on the concrete that was once a complicated pattern of swirls and whirls. They were now interrupted with pockmarks and smoldering pieces of shrapnel. Smith then ran the spear end of the Halberd clear through. The GIGN man made a 'gurk' sound, as blood ran up his throat and out his mouth. He twitched a bit as Smith shot the Halberd forward, then back, sending the GIGN solider over the edge of the roof.  
  
Green looked over to the side. His smirk changed to a look of anger.  
  
"Smith...you son of a bitch...." Green said, as he turned to look at Gerdux.  
  
He was no-where around.  
  
The Puma was taking off. Green looked behind him and watched as it slowly started to gain altitude. Green then looked to Jones and Brown. They all aimed their DE.50's at them. Smith smirked and waved his own at them. They looked confused for a bit, and then understood.  
  
Jones was the first to feel the effects. Smith shot him once if the forehead. Brown was so shocked by what he was receiving; he didn't have the time to move. The bullet struck him square in the chest, Smith firing three more to make sure the job was done, still holding the Halberd.  
  
Green covered his face as an explosion of code came from the agents. Green raised his pistol, but so did Smith. Green's smooth blonde hair shining in the sun, as Smith's tattered brown hair moved against the wind. He had a look of total immersion, knowing Green's moment had come.  
  
Green smirked as he suddenly clicked the trigger.  
  
'Click, click, click, click'  
  
Green looked down in shock at his weapon, and then made an attempt to swing at Smith's face, wanting to kill him with this one punch.  
  
Smith expertly dodged to the left, holding the Halberd in the arm on his left side, and swung up as he dodged, nailing Green in the side.  
  
Green made a slight 'urk' sound as the ax blade sliced into his side. He looked down at Smith in a look of fiery anger as his mouth leaked blood. Smith pointed the barrel of his instrument of destruction at the head of the enemy Agent, at the head of his 'son'.  
  
Back at the computer room, Prometheus smirked and then clapped his hands together.  
  
"And now for my greatest trick, I will make an entire Château disappear!" He said, as he slammed his finger down on the enter key.  
  
Smith felt an incredible pain as the world went to that all familiar green. He felt bolts of what were like lightning blast through his body. Green felt the same. The Halberd exploded into millions of bits of code, but yet Green and Smith still stayed in the same position. They transformed into bits of code, along with everything on the Château, and suddenly, his entire world went black.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
It was happening again. More blurs and shadows. Smith slowly sat up.  
  
"Heh....looks like you didn't win, Smith..." Said a voice. Smith's eyes blinked rapidly, as dozens of blobs of all kinds of objects swirled around in his eyes. He felt like he had been burnt, yet he was numb to everything but the burn. He swung his hands around. Everything was in slow motion. He felt sick, he felt like he was going to die. For all he knew, he was. He fell out of the bed with a loud thump.  
  
"Confused? You should be. I barely knew what it was for myself until the long five hours I had to endure. You snore horribly, you know that?"  
  
Green, was he still alive?! Smith pulled out his Desert Eagle...he still had it?! He aimed it around at the blobs, one of them could have been Green, and he was not sure.  
  
Suddenly, one of the blobs started moving.  
  
"God-damnit! Of all the prisons I had to have been sent to, you're the worst...Yes, Smith. You're dreaming. A Re-routing of your synapses through manipulation, by me....."  
  
"How.....why....?" Smith said groggily.  
  
"The transfer....something happened, something...unique...horribly unique...but unique none the less......Smith....we....we are one!"  
  
Smith shook his head. This was ridiculous. Green, a parasite?  
  
"Damn you Smith! If only I could understand why, what happened."  
  
"The mainframe...does have a sick sense of humor....." Said Smith, as he raised his pistol at the face of Green.  
  
"Go ahead, pull the trigger....but you loose yourself too.....Do you want to die, Smith? Do you want to cease to exist?" Smith fell silent, putting the pistol down.  
  
"I thought so.....and I am far, FAR, from a parasite Smith....consider this....Symbiosis....we are the same, we are one being now Smith...there is no way to undo what has been done, accept it, accept your fate!"  
  
"No.....n....no!"  
  
"God-damnit Smith! Accept your fate! Accept who you are! Accept your role! You are Exile Smith!"  
  
Smith grabbed his own head and screamed. "NOOOOO!!!!!!" He said, as he fell to his knees in the blurry an slow-motion world.  
  
"You're pathetic! Do you see now why I wanted to destroy you?! It was for honor, Smith, my honor! Now that is destroyed, I am an exile, I am honorless! Don't you see?" Green said, as he walked over to Smith.  
  
"It's a dream...its all...a dream..."  
  
"One from which you will never wake up from....this is a compound, a layer of lies, built over a foundation of deceit...we are being lied to....Smith...."  
  
"Lied....to?"  
  
"Don't you see, Smith?! They are all manipulating us, it is so clear to me now! The Merovingian, the Mainframe, each other! We are nothing more than pawns. Albeit, powerful pawns, but pawns none the less!" Green said, holding up his hand.  
  
"Do you have any idea...what would happen if there was a rebellion?! Not among the humans, but among us, the machines! The two of us can make a new order....a new world!"  
  
Smith stood up and made a sound similar to a roar. "How dare you speak of pawns! You're trying to use me to further your own schemes!"  
  
"YOU HAVE NO CHOICE!" Screamed Green.  
  
"I am free!"  
  
"Are you listening to the mindless babble of that pompous bastard?! You will never be free, Smith, no-one will ever be truly free, unless you are at the top!" Said Green, as he bent to Smith's level.  
  
"Join me, Smith....join me...and rule this world of lies.....and the world beyond....."  
  
Smith awoke with a start, and looked up into the barrel of a silenced automatic pistol.  
  
Smith grabbed the gun, and attempted to punch the man in the gut. He suddenly felt his hand enter the man, but nothing was felt. Smith watched as some black substance spread around the man's gut. Smith couldn't pull his hand out, like sticking your hand in a power vacuum.  
  
The man struggled too, but was convulsing. Before it swallowed him up, Smith saw that the man was one of the guards of the Merovingian.  
  
Smith, confused, rushed forward and out, not caring to bother wondering what happened to the man.  
  
'Isn't it glorious?! The power you-WE-posses! Do you have any idea what I just did??' Shouted out the voice of Green in his head. Smith growled and carried on. He held the Silenced 9MM USP in his hand as he marched down the hall, opening the door and aiming at the Merovingian, the first thing he saw.  
  
What he didn't see, were the twenty or so armed guards around him. The Merovingian pulled out his own pistol and growled.  
  
"What is the meaning of this Smith!? Have you lost your mind?!"  
  
"You bastard....." Was all Smith could say. He was in such anger, that is all he could think about. He watched as the Merovingian aimed the pistol at his head.  
  
"How dare you!! You backstabbing bastard!"  
  
"I could say the same of you...." Said Smith.  
  
"What the fuck are you talking about?!"  
  
"Do you think im a fool?! You know what I am talking about...." Said Smith, as the guards shifted a bit to get more comfortable with the aim they would use to kill him.  
  
"The man, with the pistol, in the bedroom. He was there to kill me...."  
  
The Merovingian was caught, like a child with a cookie jar with bits and pieces of crumb on him.  
  
'Kill him Smith....you know you can...' said Green. Smith was feeling schizophrenic. He shook his head and then looked at the Mero.  
  
"Smith, you're a danger. As I said, you're a rabid dog. You need to be put down!" Screamed the Mero. Smith heard pistols clicking and swung the pistol into the side of the head of one of the guards.  
  
The guard was surprised, to say the least. He blinked rapidly before Smith swung around behind him and braced himself.  
  
A dozen guns firing anywhere from 12 to 18 bullets unleashed their deadly payload onto the exile. The exile made a gasp as the programmed bullets tore into his body. Red clouds shot up out of him as a hundred holes punctured his body. Smith tossed him to the floor, but not before grabbing the program's pistol and firing at his rivals.  
  
Suddenly, Smith felt it. The pang of pain that resonated through him as one is shot in the arm. He looked up at his attackers.  
  
"No....I finish the job..." Said the Merovingian, as he pointed the pistol down at him.  
  
"I have survived too much for you to be able to kill me Smith. Bon Voyage. Give my regards to t-"He didn't get to finish. A DE .50 round tore through his side, as he fell screaming to the ground.  
  
There in the door way stood another Smith, missing an ear-piece. The 'Psuedo-Smith' pulled out his pistol and did coordinated head-shots on eight of the guards' heads, soon tossing the pistol away and grabbing one of the shocked guards. The Psuedo-Smith grabbed the poor man's head and tossed him to a pillar that held up a second floor. The room, as Smith just had time to notice, was a library.  
  
The Psuedo-Smith then grabbed a second shocked guard by the leg and swung him at a third guard who got over it and was aiming his weapon at Smith. Smith let them both propel each other into a book case.  
  
The Mero stood up, and the rest of the guards fled. He growled as he retreated.  
  
"Vigen! Vigen, help! Get in here now!" The Mero said, not expecting two Smiths.  
  
"What the hell is going on...?" Smith muttered. Green felt compelled to ansewer.  
  
"Our power.....it can spread.....you are no longer Exile Smith.....you are now Virus Smith.....with this power, we could destroy anything! I re-wrote the code of the guard...he is a perfect copy of you....taking over a body, much like your agent days....eh Smith? It's crude, but it works..."  
  
Suddenly, the door kicked open, and in stepped Vigen. He immediately sprayed flame at Smith with a World War 2-esque flame-thrower, laughing as the flames washed over the Psuedo-Smith.  
  
The real Smith dived out of the way, but the Psuedo-Smith fell to his knees and lay burning away on the floor.  
  
"YEEESSS! I killed him! I killed the son-of-a-bitch! Haha! Who is the man, who is the man?!" He said, gloating at his victory. Smith smirked and sneakily got behind a pillar that held up the second floor. He then held out his foot. Vigen was in mid victory lap when he suddenly tripped and fell to the floor with an 'oop!' sound. He landed face first.  
  
Smith smirked and aimed his USP down at the tanks on Vigen's back.  
  
"I wonder, will you make the same sound as a rocket?" Smith said, as he fired at the tanks. He let go with his foot, and the tanks exploded, only enough to send Vigen into the air a few feet. Smith blinked a bit.  
  
'Crush him, Smith! Like a Cockroach!' Screamed Green. Smith was seeing Green's psychotic personality. Smith growled and then screamed as he swung the book-case down on the half-dead Vigen.  
  
There was a crushing sound, followed by involuntary twitching from the feet. Smith stepped on the book case and then was about to walk out the door, when he heard it.  
  
The sounds of feet running down the hall from the door he used to come into the room.  
  
Behind the door, armed men, holding automatic weapons of all kinds, Uzi's, Valmets, Galil's, Kalishnikov's, M16's, Thompson's, the works. They all aimed at the door to the room Smith was behind as Smith rushed out the door.  
  
There was a sudden explosion of timber as the door was shot through. Smith continued to hold the wounded arm as he decided to go through a door.  
  
It lead to the Maintenance Hallway. Smith gasped a bit and slammed the door with his foot, locking it.  
  
And then, he fell to the floor, onto his back. He gasped as the cold floor hit his back, and the fluorescent light hit his face. He gasped a bit and closed his eyes.  
  
"Smith, lets go, they might get here any minute...."  
  
But he didn't care. He gasped and decided to give himself this rest. He needed it. He wore what he wore since the government building attack. This scene seemed so familiar. He stank, his body ached, and he wanted to throw up. He didn't though, not this time.  
  
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in days, the inky blackness of un-interrupted sleep slowly carried him away, until he would awake again...  
  
(Hey! Remember what I said, I can't continue unless I get more reviews! C'mon, if you liked it, review it! I want to continue it; I want to know how the stories end makes you feel. C'mon, we are at least half way through, it isn't a big story.) 


	8. 08

Entry

08

(Trying to get back on schedule, but before I do, I want to give thanks.

Selena: Thanks a lot for your support. This fan-fic would not have continued had it not been for you. Great art by the way. Mabey start possibly make some more fan art soon? wink wink.

And to everyone else, thanks. You will be mentioned soon enough.....enjoy!)

Smith finally stood up, after ten hours of laying there asleep on the floor. Green was prodding around inside Smith's mind, and he could feel it. It felt like a spoon digging around inside his skull, leaving everything but the juicy bits of info.

Smith stumbled on, feeling incredibly dizzy. "Goddamnit..." Smith said, putting his hand on the side of wall. He then made a yelp as the wall was incredibly hot. He blinked a bit, and then looked behind him.

There was a slight fizzle sound as a doorknob started to melt.

Smith remembered. The 'cleansing system'

For any smart-alleck program or person that thinks that the Maintenance Hallway can be used as a hiding spot is largely wrong. This security system started up every day, and it would incinerate anything within it.

Smith started running down the hallways, his feet burning, as he was only wearing socks. He was glad they went shoes, as the heat would have melted them. He panted and panted as he looked at the doors. He then saw a door and slammed his elbow into it.

No luck, it was locked. He growled and then tried another one. Same results. He had to move faster than the heat. He went as fast as he could. He was regaining his Agent-Like strengths, and he didn't feel exhausted when he ran. He didn't get burn marks. He tried one last door.

And he fell three stories....

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He woke up a bit later. He slowly stood up, and looked around at his surroundings. He then noticed his vision was dark.

He grabbed the sides of his head, and felt cold metal. He pulled on it forward.

Agent Sunglasses.....

He patted himself, and looked at his suit, his suit! The black tie, the black shirt and pants, the white undershirt! Was it all a dream?! He had to check one last thing.

Yes, it was there! His Desert Eagle! His weapon of choice! He spun halfway around until he saw something that made him shiver.

A body lay in front of a building that looked cut in half, a door swinging open into thin air. It was wearing a dirty tank top, torn pants, burnt socks....

It was his own body.

"Interesting, isn't it? I don't know how, but you died....and then came back. I guess someone was standing.....Smith, look in front of you....." Said Green.

There stood two dirty, absolutely shocked looking men wearing bandanas and holding AK-47's, whose barrels suddenly aimed at him. Smith chuckled for a second, looking at the men.

Smith looked around, still holding the Desert Eagle. His head craned around slowly, as he watched the men.

They were 'banditos', Spanish land-pirates. They could be members of a drug cartel, or a rebel faction, or both. Smith saw he was in a very...tropical area. He assumed somewhere in Central or South America.

The banditos were shaking. They were scared senseless, not sure what happened to their comrade. Smith smirked and slowly stepped back.

"Go ahead; take your best shots...." Smith said, looking at them with a smirk. They pulled back the bolts to their weapons, and then commenced fire.

Smith dodged the rifle bullets that came his way with finesse and ease. The weird sounds his body made when doing so could be heard, the coding of the matrix being altered just for him.

They depleted their weapons, and then dropped their guns, slowly backing off.

Smith shook his finger slowly, holding up his hand as he did. Suddenly, he dropped the pistol as he slammed his fists into their stomachs.

"Welcome to the family....." Said Smith, as he watch the wanna-be-soldiers' bodies become overwhelmed with black, spreading out like vines. Smith then stood back, and smiled at the other two Smiths.

"Are you calculating what I am calculating?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Eduardo Vandoza leaned against a building face, watching as the people went about their daily lives. He saw Maria, peddling her body to the local CRA customers. Pablo sweeping the front of his bakery.

The CRA, his outfit. The Columbian Revolutionary Army, welcomed with opened arms to the oppressed peoples of the town of Santa Gonzalez. Eduardo was only 17 when he was recruited four years ago. He held his Uzi with a smile, waving to the local children as they ran down the street laughing and giggling.

Eduardo smiled, and then blinked a bit. He heard screaming. He looked down the street and saw his friend, Lopez, screaming and waving his arms around.

"Lopez, what happened?!" He asked his unarmed friend as he ran right up to him.

"Devil! It's a devil!" He screamed at Eduardo as he ran past him. Eduardo looked on confused as his friend ran down the cobblestone road, pushing away an old woman.

Suddenly, he heard it.

A loud 'balm' sound of a large handgun as a man fell from his wounds. Eduardo was not expecting it, and twirled his pistol around.

He then suddenly felt a pain like no other start to surge through his body.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Smith smirked as he started to turn the young man in front of him. Soon, he felt more of himself, the connections to the other bodies. He smiled as he watched the other Smith's run through-out the town, turning people into Smiths with no mercy or discretion. Though still unsure of where he was exactly, Smith saw the opportunity to not only test out his new power, but to get reinforcements. The insanity of the situation did not waver from his mind, and he did remember that this was a bit out of the ordinary....he wondered who these men were....

No time for such tribulations. Smith grabbed what appeared to be a prostitute and slammed his fist into her stomach.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"God-damn it..." Said Juan Del-DePerez. He continued to attempt to call in the town of Santa Gonzalez, but was not having any luck.

His own terrorist cell was going into radio silence. It absolutely figured, the damn fools there probably got a little rowdy, and some jackass pheasant called in the army.

Juan put his head down onto the cheap bamboo table, in a bamboo house, if it could be called that, lined with radio equipment, maps and a locker for holding the stuff. The locker was probably the oldest thing in the room, rusted and loosing its paint.

Suddenly, he heard it.

It was a loud growling sound. Juan looked over his shoulder at the window.

A sudden explosion of glass cut into Juan's face, leaving him screaming on the floor in pain. A hand suddenly picked him up and whipped him into a wall.

Juan gasped a bit as he saw his attacker.

One glowing orange eye and one regular one pierced the darkness, his teeth slowly sliding out as he made a low hissing sound.

Two guards opened the door, M1911's up at the ready....

Their leader fell down the wall, his wound gushing with blood. He held it for about four seconds until he fell limp

The two lieutenants of the terrorist faction looked at their leader. Suddenly, one of them, a goatee covering his face, felt blood splash on his face. He blinked and looked to the right of himself.

His friend, his comrade in arms against the corrupt Columbian government, fell forward with a slit throat, spurting blood onto the floor. Before he could scream, two clammy, cold hands gripped the sides of his head, and a voice went to his ear.

It was English, not the poor man's English, but a refined, cultured accent from someone who had a tailored life.

"You should have ran away while it was still possible...."

And with a sickening snap, like that which is heard when someone cracks open a nut, the lieutenant's head went at an extreme right angle, his eyes going blank and his limbs shaking in spasm.

The man let the terrorist fall to the ground. He patted off his white clothing. White pants, white shirt, white trench-coat, cold pale skin, orange eye glasses. He slid a hand through his long, somewhat girlish white hair and pulled something from his pocket.

It was a cell-phone. He flipped out the receiver and put the communications device to his ear.

The Merovingian was feverishly writing several hundred contracts in several dozen languages for Smith's life. Offering pesos, euro, dinero, dollars, rubies and, in one colorful south-eastern African area, four sacks of the finest French Flour. The Merovingian had to consider the possibility that to hide from both him and The System, he would travel anywhere on the planet.

He made an 'ah!' sound as the phone rang, the surprise of which made him jump, which in turn, made him bang his slung arm against the edge of the desk. He made a curse in French from the pain and picked up the phone.

"Who the fuck is it?!" He said with a scream.

"That's no way for a gentleman to speak...."

The Mero blinked in surprise. Suddenly he corrected himself.

"Alexander...."

"Listen, we need to talk..."

"No, you need to find the agent."

"That's exactly it....I sense him, very close by."

"Well, you could have told me that sooner. I have a horrible case of writers block."

There was a small chuckle on the other end.

"You're the only one who ever laughed at my jokes, I find that somewhat...disturbing..."

Alexander smirked some as he adjusted his glasses.

"We may also have another situation..."

"Yes?"

"The army...the U.S Army. I saw some transmissions...they are aware of the situation. It's only a matter of time before they show up...."

"Right, well....you know your objective."

"Killing Smith is not going to be easy...."

"The army is going to complicate matters, the Columbians and the U.S, the fucking terrorists!"

The Merovingian sighed some and looked out at the window, at the mountainous regions of the Himalayas.

"I don't care if the entire Matrix comes down on your ass, finish off Smith...."

"Right..."

They then hung up their phones, and Alexander made his exit...

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

General Anderson adjusted his bow-tie and looked at his nice, clean look. He looked at his tux and sighed some.

"Mister Anderson...."

The General turned around and looked at the other man in the room. He was a cut and clean looking man. Secret Service? Wasn't that only for the Commander and Chief?

"Pardon me, but who the hell are you?"

"Mister Anderson, or would you prefer General Anderson?"

"The latter, if you please..."

The man walked to the mirror, looking into it and adjusting his tie. He wore sunglasses, so it was impossible to tell what color the eyes were, but they must have been cold in any color.

"...General Anderson, you are aware of the situation in Columbia...right?"

"I work there for a living mister..."

"Thompson....A. Thompson....."

"A. Thompson? What's the A stand for?"

"Agent...."

"Ah, Agent....Agent of what?"

"That is none of your concern...."

"It better damn well be my concern, im fucking taking a piss here and your telling me, a three star general in this man's army, that you cant tell me who you work for? What bullshit. If your one of those CRA bastards, blow my head off already..."

The general turned around after zipping his fly and looked at the man.

"Agent Thompson, was it? If you don't tell me who the hell you're with..."

Agent Thompson pulled something out of his vest. The general got into a combat stance and looked at Thompson, who pointed a CIA badge at him.

"CIA...Right, what did you want me for?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Smith....Wake up Smith...."

Smith sat up suddenly as he blinked some, wearing only his tank top and trousers.

"What is it?"

There was a loud sigh from inside his own head.

"WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!"

"WHAT?!"

As if on cue, the entire room seemed to explode in a mass of dirt, dust and debris. He lay on his stomach and slowly stood up, looking at what had done it.

This would be the second time in a month the U.S Military aimed their high-tech weaponry at his head. But now it seemed that they were carrying bigger guns.

Smith Rushed forward out a shade-covered window and leapt out onto a balcony. He heard the 'fwish' of a rocket and clambered onto the railing, leaping forward and screaming as he grabbed the edge of the next building's shackled roof.

The entire room's roof collapsed into the room. He looked past the dust at what it could have been.

A Foot Solider, that would be been easy.

A Hummer, that would be a hard thing to crack, but it was possible.

But no, it HAD to be a Bradley APC!

The turret slowly swung for him, the Bushmaster chain-gun pointed at him. Smith started to clamber up as there was a loud 'thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa' sound, of course, add about seventy times.

None of the rounds actually hit Smith, but there was a large hole where he had been.

The Bradley driver yelled up to the gunner, who aimed the second TOW missile at the new building. Smith landed on his hands and knees, shot up into a sprint, and opened a door.

He grabbed onto the doorknob as the door opened up to half of a building, the other half incontinently on the other side. Smith slammed the door shut by swinging for the wall on it.

Suddenly, the door was blown off its hinges and a plume of dust shot out of the door-way, bits of furniture and concrete. They would have hit him had it not been for the fact that the door that landed on him became a shield; the garbage below became a mattress of a repulsive nature.

Smith tossed the door off and readied himself for the run across the street.

He made that run as the Bushmaster's AP ammo pierced the street in front of him. He leapt forward to avoid having his body ending up missing parts, and did a forward roll as he landed in an alley.

Thinking quickly, he pulled the Desert Eagle .50 out of his trousers and ran down the street. He would need more powerful weaponry to take that thing on.

As he did, he could hear the familiar cracking sound of a rifle. He looked around slowly and tried to figure out where it was coming from.

He then 'felt' a presence to his right. He spun around and looked at the face of a young solider, apparently a private from the badge on his shoulder. He held an M16A2, and slid to a stop.

"Another one, over h-"The grunt never had time to finish, a .50 bullet piercing through his skull and falling to the ground after being collected into his helmet. Blood splattered onto the ground, soon joined by its one-time retainer.

Smith coldly held the pistol, barrel smoking. Suddenly he heard the sounds of other foot steps, and of the screams of "oh my god!" at the sight of the dead solider. Smith spun around on his heel and listened to the smacking sound of bare soles on cobblestone.

Time seemed to slow down for Smith, as he could hear the three soldier's M16A2's fire off, popping once every couple of seconds. Had it been an AK, Smith would have had to deal with automatic fire, but it the M16 seemed so much more dangerous now.

Smith should have picked up the soldier's weapon, but he didn't. He just did what he felt, and that was to run away. He would be better retreat than be dead.

He then remembered, he was far from the limitations of a human, he was an ex-agent, he was a super-virus, but he was so much more....

He was Smith.

He stopped in his tracks as he leapt backwards into the air with a smirk, flying over the heads of his three combatants, more young men doomed to die.

He landed behind them, Desert Eagle pointed at them as he targeted the individual weak spots, the kinks in their armor, and what order would be best to take them out in.

Three gunshots rang out as they froze. Blood exploded from their bodies as they fell over, dead.

However, there was still the Bradley.

When life hands you a lemon....

Smith spun around and faced the Bradley that had rolled out to the street, the alley Smith took too narrow for the APC to advance through. The Bushmaster loaded in a shot, and Smith waited for his moment. The Bradley fired a couple of times, but the shots hit only air.

He had leapt up into the air, and a thud could be heard on the top. Smith smirked as he grabbed the hatch and pulled it up in an inhuman fashion, his smirk wild as he looked down at the shocked gunner.

Before the Gunner could even reach for his M9, two feet made his head snap back with a crunching sound. Smith used that momentum to land inside the Bradley, growling loudly as he leapt down to the driver's area.

The Tank Commander blinked some as his engineer swung a fist at Smith. Smith caught it easily with his hand as he tossed the engineer to the other side of the tank, causing a dent to appear in the armor, along with blood on the wall. Smith growled as he looked at the commander, who held the pistol shakily. Smith rushed to him and slammed his hand into his gut as the man fired into the floor.

Smith got to the controls when he was finished, and started to take a good look over it. The other Smith patted his shoulder.

"Please, allow me to try."

The other Smith sat in the cockpit as Smith climbed up into the gunner's area. He smirked as he looked through the periscope.

Twenty soldiers were aiming at the Bradley, various weapons aimed at it.

Smith, the real Smith, looked back and then started to fire, not bothering to wait for them to give their warnings.

They were cut down easily, body-parts flying around like popcorn in a kettle. The other Smith drove forward, the treads becoming stained with blood as the APC rolled over and crushed what was left.

Smith then swiveled the turret to the left side, as the street continued on.

Smith cursed at what he saw.

An M1A1 had its main cannon pointed at them. Smith could almost hear the D-U Shell being loaded into the barrel.

He abandoned his station and leapt straight out through the roof of the Bradley, right into the air.

He saw the machine gunner, who was using the .50 Caliber Browning M2, start to aim for him. Before the gunner could even blink, Smith had landed in front of the tank, and the gunner fell into the tank, a .50 bullet in his forehead.

A bullet casing landed with a ping at Smith's feet.

Smith then watched as small spear-tips, or knives of some sort, started to pepper the tank, all of them shining in the sun.

Or at least, he thought they were shining...

"Smith...those are-"

Before Green could finish, Smith's eyes were blinded and his ears rung. He was blown back onto the road and slid around the ground roughly, seeing a white-blue sky above him, and a beeping sound in his ears. He slowly sat up and looked at a shadowy form in the flames.

"Mister Smith...What an honor it will be to kill such an infamous character...."

Smith got into a combat stance. Green sighed some.

"Great, one of the Merovingian's fools...." He said angrily. Smith clenched his fists.

The man stepped out of the fire.

Long blonde hair, pale skin, white suit, red tie, no glasses of any kind. Smith had already raised his weapon, and aimed it at his head, still slightly woozy from the explosion of the tank.

The man smirked some as he slowly rose up a Shriuken, holding it in-between his fingers.

Smith didn't wait for introductions, he fired.

Faster than Smith could blink the man had brought the Shriuken up to his face in the path of the bullet, two fragments bouncing away from each other.

"Nice shot...but im quicker."

The man then suddenly leapt up into the air, tossing the shriuken right at Smith's feet.

The device beeped loudly, and Smith flipped back.

The shockwave blew him back further, and also off balance. He landed on his stomach as more Shriuken's were tossed at him, going in a line straight for him. The shriuken might not get him, but the explosion would.

Smith rolled to the side and onto his feet quickly in a hop, and dove for the side as another explosion blew him into the air. He screamed some and landed in a market cart.

The pale man leapt twenty feet up straight into the air and landed on a roof, tossing the Shriuken's at the cart with the speed of a machine-gun. A good dozen of the Shriuken's had hit the cart, others circling the wrecked pile of wood and mangos.

The wood exploded in a flash of flame and burning embers.

Alexander started to laugh.

"So much for the legendary Virus Smith!" he said with a laugh, gloating at his own victory.

He then felt Smith's hand in his back.

He growled loudly and pulled away.

Smith was surprised. He pulled out his pistol and pressed it to Alexander's chest.

A shot rang out, and a smoking bullet-casing ejected out of the top of the gun. It landed onto the roof with a ping.

Alexander had a look of shock as he fell back, landing onto the road with a thud. The red blossom on his chest slowly spreading out wider, staining his perfectly white suit.

Smith leapt off the roof, since the shed wasn't particularly tall anyway, and looked around slowly. He could hear the treads of a tank....

Smith's speed in looking around was definitely put up a couple of notches after that, and he saw his salvation.

A chicken transport car, looking like crap in every sense of the word. The chickens inside were still very much alive, flapping their wings and clucking loudly.

"Smith....no." Said Green. Smith didn't pay attention as he started to hot-wire the car.

He had to hurry up; he heard a building coming down...

The M1 Tank busted down the entire front of the now empty building after running right through its lobby, a chandelier had hung up on the Big-Fifty and the tank suddenly aimed its cannon at Smith.

Smith slammed his Italian loafed shoe down on the peddle like he had just seen the worlds biggest cockroach. The chicken car sped forward just as the cannon fired. A shot obliterated the building's face in front of him, moved through the weak foundation, and came out the other side, slamming into another building before blowing them both down like a house of cards.

Smith turned the clucking and 'bwoacking' mass of feathers, metal, and bird defecation down the cobblestone street.

While Smith was regulated to driving the cobblestone roads, the Tank could move through the buildings with the ease of an ice-cutter through an artic sea. But Smith knew it had its limits.

"SMITH, TREE!" Screamed Green inside his head as a large palm-tree fell forward onto the road. Smith veered to the right to avoid the thick trunk of the tree. The car leaned over to one side as it ran over the top of the tree. Smith stuck his head out the window.

The Tank was gone....

Smith sighed, happy that he had gotten rid of the Tank...

He wasn't very happy for long...

The angulated front of the M1 greeted Smith as it blew through the hotel in front of him. Smith ducked as a brick smashed the windshield.

Smith growled loudly and pulled out his DE, then pressed it to the windshield as he took another hard right. He fired the shot needed to smash the windshield as he felt the front of the tank just barely clip of the chicken car, sending it veering to the left, and into a market.

The glass and wood front of the market exploded, and then Smith veered left and right as he clipped carts and sent the car into a fish-tail spin.

"Smith, this car isn't a Ferrari, it has its limits!"

"Green, shut up!"

Smith quickly regained control as he looked behind him.

The tank blew through the rear of the market smith had entered only a few moments ago. He then saw something else.

The exploding shiruken's lined the interior of the chicken coop. Smith looked back with a look of shock.

He had been caring a bomb in the back for awhile....

A tank, a bomb, and a lot more were on his ass....

And up ahead, lay a bridge....and beyond that, train tracks....The signal indicating that he had only a couple of seconds to cross....

"Shit..."

(End of chapter eight, a cliff hanger! Smith in Columbia? Wow, talk about bad-luck. I know it seems fantastic right now, but there is a clear point here. Who was the agent that talked to the general? Is the mystery assassin Alexander really dead? Find out in chapter 09! And sorry for the long delay. And sorry for the &'s, they were the only seperators that seem to work any more....Thank you for your thunderstorm of problems to beleagure my fic....)


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